


Genesis

by cenobitesquid, orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adult Trolls (Homestuck), Adult Trolls in Space, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Breeding, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Consensual Sex, Egg Laying, F/F, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gore, M/M, Moirails With Pails, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Oviparous Trolls, Oviposition, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pheromones, Quadrant Vacillation, Size Difference, Troll Anatomy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 65,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9227183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenobitesquid/pseuds/cenobitesquid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Limebloods are a caste of troll breeders, tasked with bearing direct descendants to certain privileged highbloods.  Karkat is a mutant limeblood whose dubiously lucky first assignment is on the subjuggulator flagship, with the heir of the Grand Highblood himself.





	1. The Heir's Brood

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is edited from a roleplay, so sometimes the perspective shift from paragraph to paragraph is noticeable, I've made minor edits for smoother continuity. 
> 
> Pairings and tags will be posted chapter by chapter as they appear in the content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings in Chapter 1: Gamzee/Karkat  
> Tags for Chapter 1: Oviposition / Eggs / Troll Anatomy: Nook-Tentabulge-Ovipositor / Breeding / Size Difference / Blood / Consensual Sex / Oral Sex / Consensual Mind Control

So it had finally come to this. Hell, he was such a goddamned colossal bulgefucking idiot. Karkat walked down the hall behind the two pants-shittingly huge adult violet blooded subjuggulators, his stomach sinking more with each step. Why hadn't he thought of a plan before it got to this point? He kept thinking he would, kept figuring like a mushpanned wiggler that somehow something was going to work itself out, that he wouldn't just end up as a grotesque bright red smear against some chucklefuck's wall. 

But nope, fucking brilliant Karkat Vantas has spectacularly failed to think of a plan other than dumbly putting one foot in front of the other like a cowering bleatbeast being led to the slaughter. Oh well. At least he'd made it through his wigglerhood and into his first adult molt. At least he'd had some friends, for awhile. At least he'd met Kanaya, even though he was about to repay her kindness with a generous one way ticket to being culled for hiding a mutant-blooded troll. He'd had one good sweep planetside with her, yelling at his dumbfuck friends on Trollian, sprawled outdoors on neatly clipped lawns in the mild moonlight. The planet was temperate and dim all year round, even during the day, orbiting a weaker sun than their own back on Alternia. He'd hoped that maybe he could just live out his days there with the other limebloods and Kanaya. 

He nearly ran into the broad back of one of the subjuggulators when they both came to a sharp stop. One of them knocked on the door of the respiteblocks at the very end of this hallway. It was spaced apart from the doors nearest to it by quite a bit, the chambers within were clearly much larger than the others. Someone important, then. He swallowed and tried to calm his wildly beating pusher. Maybe there was still some chance this highblood, whoever he was, wouldn't notice. If it was dim in that room, if the troll he had been assigned to just did his business then ignored him, if he could keep his mouth shut like the meek little brainwashed limeblood he was fucking expected to be…then maybe. 

Still, it was mortifying to think about. Despite the very detailed schoolfeeds they'd had about every minute nuance of the breeding process, Karkat had never properly pailed anyone. Much less an adult sweeps older than him, much less a highblood. They'd dressed him in a robe, modestly long sleeved and ankle length with thick fabric, lime accents at the hems. But as modest as it seemingly was, it was also easy to open, just a thick lime colored sash wound around his waist to hold it closed, tucked instead of tied. 

His indigo-blooded escorts hadn't talked to him the entire time they'd been herding him; an odd thing considering that they were normally known for their noise when they weren't out slaughtering batches of nonbelievers or resistances or both. They stopped at the door, standing on either side as one reached out to solemnly knock on it. There wasn't an answer - not one anyone could hear, anyway, just a smooth ripple of chill that curled up from the base of the spine, the feeling of someone dragging ice up along to where it connected at the base of the skull. Apparently this was a meaning all of its own - the subjuggulator to the left opened one of the doors, not even much bothering to look at Karkat as he walked inside. Not even bothering to glare as Karkat's eyes caught stare of the highblood escort's mouth, stitched together tight.

The room was big, maybe as big as the entire hive compartment that had housed Karkat and his clutch of other wrigglers, which had not been cramped accommodations, really. But it was dark, and hazy with smoke besides, a thousand and a thousand more candles flickering everywhere, flower sticks burning all around contributing to the heady mix of it, scenting the air like a deep summer night, too. There was the smell of blood with it, but that seemed everywhere on the ship - even where no blood could be seen, the smell pervaded, sinking into the metal of the walls and floors and ceilings. There was plenty here for it to sink into, though - the room was draped with an assortment of fabrics, not all exclusively Alternian, but somehow reminiscent of Kanaya's own respite block, of the bright bolts of fabric she loved to decorate with. Somehow, it seemed more sinister here, though not entirely dissimilar. 

The room, in essence, as crammed as it was with sensory overload, still dwarfed Karkat by quite a lot. It was a dangerous place, with too many shadows and too many places to hide, and the feeling always that something was watching. Which was a good instinct to have, since something - someone- very much /was/.

Karkat's hands clenched at his sides, balling into the fabric of his robes, ruining the smooth, neat line of them. Well, it was better than shitting himself in terror, which he was half sure he might do at any second. There was something indescribably ominous about the room, even though it wasn't full to the brim with bloodied corpses, weapons and torture devices, it still had the distinct tang of violence, of religious blood rituals, of strange rites totally unknown to him. The chill that had dropped down his spine like a block of ice was crawling back up again, slow and prickly, and he swallowed, trying to keep it together. Despite all the candles, the light was flickering and uncertain, there was still a remote chance he wasn't going to die tonight.

He looked around, wide eyed, taking everything in carefully, and had to choke back a noise of protest when the highbloods that had been flanking him, seemingly satisfied that their job was done, turned to leave, pulling the door closed behind them. When it was shut, a little noise scraped out of him anyway, like a beast whose whose leg had just been snapped onto by a steel trap, and he lurched towards the closed door to try the handle like a damn idiot. Locked, of course, the lock was probably computerized to register blood temperature, at the very least. He rested his forehead against it and took a slow, shaky breath, yelling at himself to fucking get it together. Was he going to die like a trembling hopbeast, or was he going to grow the fuck up and face this inevitable conclusion like the runty technically-adult troll he was? He grit his teeth together, squared his shoulders and turned around, with his back to the door, scanning the room again, slowly, trying to catch some sign of movement.

There wasn't any. There never was, not now. Gamzee Makara had perfected making himself invisible to anybody who cared to look, his body silent enough and his powers subtle enough that he could cloud the mind, distract from himself when he wanted to. But he opened his eyes, and let the little troll catch sight of them, wondering what he would do. Wondering how he would handle the violet glow in the shadows, the vague outline of a troll that seemed a behemoth to him, though he was only an adolescent indigo at best, his massive form suggested by the dim glow of candlelight against the contours of his body. 

"What now, little brother?" he asked, voice so deep that it could rumble the aurals even from across the massive room, but strange and filtered, like it itself was so much smoke emptying out into the room. Gamzee took a step forward, coming a little more fully into the light, somehow even more massive than what had been suggested. He'd been slumped against the wall before, but now he was standing tall, striding forward like inevitable death itself, his gaunt face done up in full paint, his long claws razor sharp, smudged with paint pigments. He wasn't wearing armor, but he didn't need to - even the plain black of his leisure clothes seemed intimidating on his body, even his hair - undecorated with bones - seemed like a massive, writhing coil of tendrils, bound to choke Karkat if he got too close.

Karkat's eyes widened, slowly, and maybe his mouth gaped open just a little, like a drooling imbecile who had never seen a highblood up close, which basically he was, before he had the good sense to snap it shut. All clever retorts had fled his pan in a screaming panic. In their place, apparently was dumb sheer stupidity, and he heard himself mumble "Hello," in a voice that was a little higher pitched than his usual tone. He forced his hands to stop clenching at his robes, smoothing them down, though he couldn't stop himself from pressing his shoulder blades against the door, as if he thought maybe he could teleport through the fucking solid steel, locked door, which was ridiculous at best, but at this point he was grasping at straws for the sake of not falling into an inane blubbering heap on the rug.

"Calm, little brother. You ain't no cull with a face like that." Gamzee told him, though he realized from experience that this was little comfort to anybody not exactly as massive and twice as dangerous as he was. And there were few enough of those sorts of trolls around. Certainly not the pretty little thing before him, bound in a robe that might as well not exist for all the good it would do if Gamzee's claws snagged into it. One finger stroked the curve of the limeblood's cheek. He was so warm. He smelled of grass, and dew, and sweet things. "Give us a name."

Karkat forced himself not to flinch, forced himself not to cast his eyes down from the glowing violet gaze that was fixed on him. All he had to do was look brave, he reasoned with himself, even if he were flipping the fuck off the handle. "Karkat," he said, cursing himself for another pathetic sounding monosyllabic answer. Was that really the best he had? Hadn't he practiced his whole life at being an incorrigibly stubborn asshole who charged in without bothering to stop long enough to be afraid of anything? There was so much to be afraid of, after all, that if he started thinking about it, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. He tried to keep that in mind now, they could only cull him once after all. This violetblood would probably just rip his head right off his shoulders with one hand, it would be over fast.

"Karkat." he said, testing the word in his mouth. It was short and sour and precise, and he had a feeling that wasn't far off from what it represented. "Why you so tense, Karkat? Thought they told you what you was all up here for. I ain't fixin to hurt you less you act a fool. But I ain't thinkin that's liable to happen right soon."

He exhaled, a long slow breath, let his shoulders sag a little, seeping out some tension, though he was still pressed up against the wall. He lowered his gaze, finally, thinking this over. He was tempted for a moment just to blurt it out. Because I'm a mutant and I was hiding it, my blood is a horrible eye-searing red, just make it quick and get it over with. Maybe it would be better to admit it now rather than the subjuggulator finding out mid pail. But, like a coward, he did no such thing. Maybe it was optimism, but more likely it was just that he wanted to cling to his delusion that there was some way he might get out of this alive. "This is my first time," he said, instead, and it was true, and also true enough that other than being culled, he was sort of terrified of that part too, finally being required to do his duty to the Empire with some other troll's ovipositor stuck up his seedflap.

Gamzee's eyes widened a fraction, and for a moment, he was entirely still. But that stillness spilled over into movement the next moment, and he threw his head back, letting a deep, booming laugh rumble up from his belly. The sound echoed around the room, seemed to kick the smoke into whorls of animation, and it took a few moments for the highblood to stop himself, wiping a tear from one of his eyes as he did. "Well, if that ain't ever the worst joke that did get played on a poor motherfucker, I don't know what is." Gamzee sighed, looking back at Karkat, who had jammed himself further against the wall, as if the laughter had been a prelude to slaughter. "Remind me to fuckin CULL the idiot who thought up THAT little dream... Puttin a poor little wriggler up for highblood bulge before he even stretched around an egg, fuck's sake..."

He was blinking quickly, opening his mouth thinking to maybe defend his own competency, then snapping it closed again, realizing that the laughter wasn't a sign that he was unhinged necessarily, but… what, sympathizing with him? Well, being patronized was better than having his head crunched into the steel door, he'd take what he could get. He swallowed, feeling a little more confident for every moment that passed without violent incident. "I'm not really known for doing things by halves," he admitted, and that was true, he'd always been yelled at by his friends for being reckless, too grandiose for his station. Really, he wasn't surprised at the situation he'd found himself in, even if he knew logically why, that Kanaya had been holding out for him until they found someone who could really handle him. Someone known for being a little eccentric too, maybe Kanaya was hoping he'd be so amused by Karkat that she'd be spared.

"Little brother," Gamzee began, his thumb stroking over Karkat's lips, depressing his tongue with the tip of his claw to keep him from talking a moment. It wasn't that he minded none for the little warmblood talking, it was just that Gamzee knew when he needed to speak, too. Something much easier done with little limebloods who went stock still when he so much as locked eyes. "My tongue ain't liable to fit all the way up your nook. What d'you think my bulge is gonna do? What do you think them eggs are gonna do?"

His eyes widened at that, and his glance flicked impulsively down towards the highblood's crotch, swallowing. He was careful not to scrape his finger with his teeth, even though his first damned fool instinct had been to bite down when that claw had pricked against his tongue, pinning it down. He really would have protested then, but since he couldn't speak in his own defense, he drew his brows together, determined, and stared back up at those glowing violet eyes. Then he shrugged a little, as if to say he didn't think it was such a big deal.

"You really must be telling the truth." Gamzee murmured, taking his claw back. He stroked Karkat's temple, some of his curls, getting closer by measures. After all, it wasn't hard to smell him - the wriggler /reeked/ of pheromones, all the more potent for the fact that Gamzee had been excused from his suppressants for this, excused for the wicked rite stored up in that pretty little troll in front of him. "You got no idea, do you. That's alright. Sometimes it's better to go into battle not knowing. You ain't got time to stop and shit yourself about it."

His mouth closed, but he had nothing else to say, now, as the subjuggulator's claws stroked against his temple almost tenderly. Karkat could smell him, too, incense and blood, and beneath it a distinctive musk that was spiced with an undercurrent of pheromones that made Karkat want to step closer and bury his face right up against him to inhale more of it, the hint was dizzyingly addictive. He hadn't expected there to be so much talking. Hadn't expected this troll to sympathize with him, to ask him questions, and care about the answers. He found himself relaxing even more, feeling almost like his usual self again, despite their surroundings, despite the task set out for him. His brain refused to register the whole truth of the highblood's words, that he might not be even physically capable of it. He was too stubborn to register it. He was fucked sideways by his genetics, he was cursed with the inability to know when to keep his mouth shut, but he refused to believe he wouldn't be able to step up to the plate and bear whatever ordeal was coming his way physically. That was surely the easy part.

"I'm gonna try not to hurt you, little brother. Karkat." Gamzee told him, voice low. It wasn't a promise probably any other highblood aboard the ship would have made to him, but that didn't matter; motherfucker would be bearing his grubs, and at least until they were hatched, that meant he was just as important as the eggs themselves. Putting aside that it'd be a damn shame to ruin that pretty face with tears. Well - at least when he didn't mean to. He sealed his words with a little kiss, his makeup surprisingly well sealed and unmessy, not even transferring to Karkat's lips. Soft. He was so motherfucking /soft/, all of him, Gamzee thought, fingers picking at Karkat's sash, stopping a moment when the wriggler's hands instinctively went to them, like he were going to stop it. That was alright. Gamzee could wait. He'd had a thousand sweep's experience with that.

Karkat was mortified when he'd moved to stop the highblood from pulling open his sash, he'd acted impulsively, most of his pan occupied with being entirely floored by the kiss that had pressed against his mouth. He took a slow inhale, and straightened. He pressed the other troll's hands away a couple of inches, and untucked the sash himself. If he were going to do this, he didn't want to seem like some cowering amateur, even though he was a virgin. He was committed to doing a good job, and even though his ridiculous wigglerhood dreams of being a threshecutioner had been doomed from the start, at least he could do this right. 

The robe parted, and with a shrug of his shoulders, it fell into a heavy pile on the floor around his feet. There wasn't much to see, in Karkat's own opinion. He was compactly petite, from the nubs of his horns to the tips of his toes, though at least he was more or less solidly built, not entirely waifish. Unfortunately that solidity came with a layer of soft padding that obscured any muscle mass he'd managed to build, fleshing out his frame into smooth curves rather than angles and planes. It didn't matter. The important thing now was to focus on keeping his bulge in, so the color didn't give him away, and convincing this highblood he knew what he was doing.

Gamzee looked him over for a moment, taking some time to appreciate what he saw. After all, Karkat wouldn't do much to prevent the initial pailing - it was his sworn duty to the empire as much as a sacred rite for the messiahs - but there was nothing saying he couldn't entirely withhold himself from Gamzee after that. And Gamzee wasn't the kind of motherfucker to force himself on someone like that, a vile act in the eyes of either of his gods. Even with a cute little body like that, hard edges worked soft by nature. A fucking miracle, he thought, as he bent over, massive arms encircling Karkat and lifting him up into another kiss as he moved to carry him to the massive bed a little deeper into his respite block.

Karkat bit back the protest at his lips that there was nothing wrong with his legs, and reached up instead, circling his arms around the highblood's neck, helping to support his own weight, as if he needed to. His lashes lowered at the kiss. It was nice, he realized with some surprise. He'd thought the whole thing would merely be routine, maybe unbearably painful, maybe stimulating, but not of any emotional consequence, certainly. Why would a highblood bother with making him feel comfortable, relaxed, making him feel attractive or wanted? He licked his lips, thankful he'd forced himself to practice keeping his bulge in his sheath so diligently, seemed like that particular degree of expertise was going to be needed after all.

It was easy to feel pity for the little wriggler - and surely he was a wriggler, even for a limeblood and a male, he seemed very small. The reasoning was really that simple. Besides, Gamzee was well under the effects of sopor, a moon or two cycled past since he'd been off ship for a battle. All the pent up expressions of tenderness seemed to flow easily into the warm conduit in his arms, and he didn't bother worrying himself about it. Had to do what was right in his heart, he thought, setting Karkat down on his bed.

It had turned out that the massive room was merely the antechamber to Gamzee's true respite block, a somehow even more massive space, even darker, the soft glow of a sopor pool at the far side of it the only light that was leaking out, casting everything in a greenish hue - not too different from one of the cold season's nights on Alternia, really. Gamzee stripped off the black tunic he was wearing, and made short work of his trousers, kicking them off more or less, unconcerned with looking impressive. He knew he looked impressive from the way Karkat was gawking at him when they met eyes again.

Karkat's breath had rushed out in a quiet noise of relief when they stepped through into the adjacent room. Even though it was bafflingly huge, it was much darker, and instead of the traitorous orange glow of the candles, that would only accentuate the red of his mutant blood, he knew the cool green hue would neutralize it, so even if he blushed it wouldn't show. He was distracted by these thoughts when the other troll started stripping off his clothes, and he stopped to stare, eyes wide. Karkat had thought he was formidable in the clothes, without them, instead of stripped and awkward like Karkat imagined he himself looked, Gamzee was a long, lean strip of sharp angles and muscle, a map of faded battle scars. Karkat swallowed. "Wow," he said, before he could stop himself. "Uh, I mean. You're…" he trailed off, not wanting to insult him when he wasn't even trying to, forcing himself to think for a second before something idiotic came out of his windflap. "You're really fucking big," he finished, lamely. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he forced himself to stop gripping into his own thighs, to roll his shoulders back, relaxed, and lean back onto his hands, shifting his own knees apart. He felt like an idiot, hyper aware that he was basically a wiggler trying to seduce a highblood that was probably a hundred sweeps old, who had probably pailed thousands of times. Well, maybe he'd laugh at him, subjuggulators were supposed to like jokes, right? His ego could endure a little humiliation, he'd had practice at that too.

But Gamzee didn't laugh. He leaned down, settling a hand on either side of Karkat so that he could talk to him a little more closely. So that he could smell him, messiahs, all he wanted to do was /smell/ him, stupid as it sounded, ridiculous as it made him feel. Karkat was soft, skin still silk smooth and practically radiant - the only things that looked like silk on Gamzee were his scars, long and silvery. Though granted, he'd had quite a few, mostly from not realizing he had a knife stabbed into his gut until he was back aboard the ship, or realizing a laser had torn through his arm until he had a head in his hands, wrenched from the shooter's body. Even his hair was coarse, falling over Karkat's shoulder, dripping down his chest. "I'm a thousand sweeps old, little brother. Got to have something to show for it, right?"

He inhaled, sharp, trying not to seem too gobsmacked by that information. Instead, to distract himself, he shifted his weight onto one hand, and lifted the other, touching Gamzee's chest, feeling the hard chitinous toughness of his skin, the way it had shifted to a much darker grey than his own, so pale in comparison. He traced along some of the long, spidery scars, across his torso to his hip, feeling his pusher beating hard in his throat. Not fear anymore, he realized, but a sort of anticipation. He kept his gaze lifted up to his, didn't look down to see the indigo's bulge was sliding out or not. He was keeping in mind what the highblood had said earlier about it being easier to run into battle without knowing the exact odds.

Gamzee let Karkat touch him a little the feeling nice - there was no touching like this aboard the holy ship of the mirthful messiahs. Even most pails that Gamzee had filled were fast, hard things before or after battles, too much adrenaline and left over hormones the urge to procreate, he supposed. But this was novel, and nice, and Gamzee only broke it to bring up one of his own paws, stroking at Karkat's curls, down the shape of his body. He kissed the boy, kissed his neck and chest, following down until he actually knelt before Karkat, hands and lips on his thighs, pulling them just a little further apart, and kissing gently, upwards from his knee.

Karkat's eyes widened, this definitely was not in the schoolfeeds. Not that he didn't know about it from unofficial channels, obviously, but…right now a highblood was kneeling between his legs,and he was too dazed to even dream of protesting. He was doubly glad he hadn't blurted everything out, this was definitely worth living for. He found his hands wrapping cautiously around the other trolls long, curved horns before he could stop himself, stroking his thumbs against the texture of them, the growth rings towards the base were thicker, more pronounced than the ones towards the yellow tips, which had been worn smooth with time. He focused on the texture beneath his fingers so that his bulge would keep behaving itself as those painted lips moved up his inner thigh and his nook throbbed desperately.

Gamzee had to mind his horns when he tipped his head forward to make the first lap at Karkat's nook. He felt the boy jerk, his hands unintentionally bringing Gamzee's horns down around his neck a little more. He gave Karkat a moment to recover before he licked him again, gathering some of what was starting to leak out of him up with his tongue. He was so /hot/ - surely hotter than a limeblood should have been, Gamzee thought, but maybe that was just the pheromones talking. His head was just about swimming with them now, and it only encouraged his tongue to start to lave into Karkat's little cunt.

He clamped his teeth and lips shut hard, but a long loud moan muffled through them anyway. "Fuck, mmmgh, that's amazing," he gasped out, when his mouth fell open to gasp for a ragged breath, a shudder running up his spine, his thighs tensed and his bare toes curling up. Gamzee's tongue was cold, long and thick, and was lapping at him in a way that sent electricity from his nook to his sheathed bulge, up to his pan, and back down again to his nook, causing it to ripple and drip, as Karkat prayed silently that the dim lighting would do the trick, and that this indigo wouldn't notice how hot he was.

It was hard not to, his tongue nearly felt like it was being burned. Gamzee hadn't been over-exaggerating, either, he found - Karkat really was tight enough that his tongue was squeezed as he started to move in deeper, nose pressed up against Karkat's abdomen as he lapped deep into his nook. He took his time about it, too, eyes closed in both concentration and enjoyment, maneuvering his tongue in ways that made the little hotblood gasp and groan and try hard not to rub his legs together while Gamzee was between them, the grip on his horns growing ever tighter.

 

It was absolutely fucking incredible, he thought again, dazed. Was he sure he hadn't been smashed through the skull from behind by one of those indigos escorting him through the halls? Maybe he was unconscious and this was a very detailed, very awesome dream he was having as his mutant blood pooled on the floor in some dim rainbow-splashed hallway. He couldn't even find it in himself to be disturbed by this thought, he just wanted what was happening to never stop, and his /tongue/ was...wow, it somehow was lapping and curling and delving up into his nook into places he'd not even known could be stimulated to feel so damned good. He'd always been a cynic, but he felt like he'd agree to any kind of conversion to believing in messiahs and miracles and magnets just then. He felt something building up inside him, a hot coil of pressure in his gut, and his low, constant chirr got louder, turned into an undignified yelp and a moan as his nook very unexpectedly shuddered with a hard contraction, a more substantial gush of slurry on it's heels, and he bit his lip and shivered. Had he just orgasmed with his bulge still tucked in it's sheath? That had never happened before, but apparently that was a thing that was possible. And fantastic, he mentally supplemented.

What was more, Gamzee didn't seem the least bit put off by it, even lapping up quite a bit, making sure Karkat was mostly clean - no point in going full boar with that, it wasn't as though what they were going to do wouldn't necessitate him getting messy all over again. He was careful lifting his head up to kiss at one of Karkat's dark flushed cheeks. It was strange - the slurry was a different kind of color in the darkness than he'd expected. But then, he hadn't seen much limeblood slurry in his life, so maybe he was just having the wrong expectations. "Good, little brother?" he asked, grinning a little.

"Holy fuck," he breathed out, too dazed and glowing to remember to watch his idiot mouth. "I'm pretty sure 'good' doesn't really adequately describe it." He'd let go of his horns when the highblood had removed his head from where it had been pressed between Karkat's thighs. They'd sort of hovered, uncertain in the air on either side of his massive form, then finally settled high on his chest, splayed and gentle, the pads of his fingers stroking against the indigo's skin. "Thank you," he mumbled awkwardly, blushing. He hadn't expected kindness, hadn't really expected pleasure without pain, or to be allowed to ease into things.

"Don't need much thanks, little brother. You ain't hard to get a mouthful of." Gamzee told him, stroking back Karkat's curls again, amazed every time he looked back up at the little troll how pretty he was. Damn. He was almost sorry his wrigglers probably wouldn't absorb any of them genetics. "They should be making more of you, brother. You're a right little miracle, you know?" Gamzee told him, kissing Karkat's throat, sucking into the skin a little.

That was nice, and he found his hands sliding up to twine together behind the indigo's neck, tipping his own head back to encourage him to suck into his throat more. His pusher was still pounding fast, but maybe stupidly, the praise had emboldened him a little. "What's your name?" He asked, quietly, not sure if that was inappropriate or not, but risking it anyway. The highblood was treating him like a troll, not just a fleshy vessel to dump his eggs into, maybe they could be on a hatchname basis.

"Gamzee. Makara." The last bit was an afterthought - he had to say it so /rarely/, was all. Everybody he'd ever met knew exactly whose get he was, and who had the blessing of the empire to create him. It had been a secret to him until he'd been proven in battles and in the church, more than a hundred sweeps. But by then it had been obvious anyway, if he'd cared to think about it, he mused. With Karkat looking at him like that now though, wide eyed, he remembered the surname came with a lot of baggage attached. "Don't worry your pretty head none, brother. I ain't /him/ no more than that Feferi girl is /her/."

He exhaled a little, shaky. He'd just better not fuck this up, or Kanaya was /really/ going to be in trouble, insulting the heir of the Grand Highblood by tricking him into putting his eggs in a mutant rather than a proper limeblood. Everyone had heard stories about GHB, nightmare fuel to scare wigglers with. He was inclined to believe Gamzee when he proclaimed he wasn't that, with the stories of his bloodthirsty whims and terrifying violence, the easy superiority of squashing flat members of lower castes like irritating flies. "I'm honored to meet you, Gamzee," he said, sounding not very much like himself all of a sudden, as if Kanaya had just stepped up behind him and thwacked him over the skull to remind him not to be such a mannerless imbecile in front of the blood descendent of the high priest of Alternia.

 

"Nah, brother. Just unlucky." he said, lids at half mast, staring at Karkat's mouth rather than his eyes. He didn't want to see that. It was what Gamzee saw on a nightly basis, what he saw when he closed his eyes, what he saw tangled up in fitful dreams in the sopor. Blood and fear were his hatchrights, but he didn't want them now. But then, he rarely did, he thought to himself, chagrinned. "Listen, do... Whatever you want, but not that. Please. I can't be up and marring a messiah given beauty like that with fear. Come on, brother."

Karkat's eyes widened even more, surprised that apparently his response hadn't been the right one. Something suspiciously close to pity, as unlikely and misplaced as that was, seized him unexpectedly and he gripped his hands back around Gamzee's horns, tipping his head back just a little, meeting his eyes, all traces of fear gone from his own, replaced with determination instead. "Okay. But I can't promise you'e not going to regret telling me I can just do whatever the hell I want." His lips twitched towards a scowl, to cover a little grin that tried to escape, and he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Gamzee's, in a slightly clumsy but enthusiastic kiss.

It was goddamn amazing was what it was, Gamzee thought, taking only a moment before he kissed back, gentle as he could make himself. He was very much stronger than Karkat was in quite a lot of ways, but he wanted to leave enough space for the little limeblood to do what he wanted. At least, for a little while. Because while kissing Karkat was nice, it became pretty obvious that he had few ideas about what to do more than that. That weren't really no concern to Gamzee, though. Little brother had to do what was all up in that miraculous pusher. "You're hotter 'n ten thousand white dwarves, you know that? All you motherfuckin limebloods give a motherfucker fever like this?"

"I don't know, I've never fucked a limeblood," he murmured against Gamzee's mouth, biting into his lower lip and tugging a little. His teeth were pointed but rather blunt, so they just scraped against the skin without piercing, just an impulsive enticement. His too-soft hands ran down the long, hard muscled stretch of Gamzee's torso, pausing at his abdomen for just a moment before sliding them lower, tracing his fingertips against the top of his sheath as they kissed, then finally down against his bulge. His mouth had been pressed back up against his, but he couldn't help but gasp as his fingers found and wrapped around the girth of Gamzee's bulge. With both hands wrapped around, his fingers barely touched. I mean, sure he had kind of short, stubby fingers, but damn.

He didn't have the kind that retracted, out on display for the whole world to see when he was undressed. Not that he would have been much different even if it were retractable, his nook was swollen up just from pleasuring the little warmblood, much less the idea of parenting a grub or two - or three, or more... gods he hoped not, though of course, that was always up to the messiahs, wasn't it - was getting him all worked up. "And I only get bigger as I molt. Pretty fucked up, right?"

"If by fucked up you mean incredibly hot, yeah. I think my nook just decided entirely without my conscious input that it absolutely needs as much of this up in it as it can possibly take. Maybe as much as it can take, then plus a couple of inches on top of that." He realized he was babbling, but it was also all true, as much as whatever shred of decency left in him was shocked and appalled by the sudden clarity of his own messed up desires.

"If you still want me after today, we'll fix you with all you can take." Gamzee promised him after a good laugh. He was just so earnest about it, and it made him wish he'd met Karkat when he was younger, when he had... Wished all his nights and days, really, for someone like him. Someone who wasn't holding a knife to his throat in his mind. He was told he would feel protective of the wriggler when the eggs had taken, but damn, he felt it /now/, like he wanted to tattoo his name across the kid's damn nook, and his pusher too. Instead, he wriggled his bulge in Karkat's hands, twining the tip around his wrist. "First I think I'm supposed to fix you up with some eggs, though..."

Karkat squeezed both his hands around his bulge, rubbing his palms and fingers against the thick mass of it, stroking and tugging and petting, liking the way it curled around his wrist, liking the slick texture of it against his palms, with all it's nubs and ridges and bumps, so unlike his own little bulge, which he'd always thought was kind of thick for his size, but mostly smooth, tapered like a tongue. He swallowed and nodded, moving one hand up to Gamzee's bone bulge, rubbing his fingertips at the little slit there, then applying pressure where he'd learned to, to help coax his ovipositor out. "All right, it's a deal then." He was ready, he had to be ready. Besides, just about anything that would fill up his nook sounded like an awesome idea, just then.

Admittedly, even Gamzee was a little curious about his ovipositor. It was one of those things that every troll /had/, in the way that every troll had a fifth filtration sac, or those gnarly little bumps on the back of their tongue - something evolutionary and mostly uneeded by the general populous, who would have heirs through the mother grubs, back on the homeworld. It was really only those who were considered important enough, or those who were rich enough, who got direct heirs, with a traceable lineage. The Grand Highblood had had many, but most had died from intentional murders, or just the wear and tear of juggalo life, with too many harsh lessons and next to no comforts. And now Gamzee would probably have many, and many would probably die before one survived, too. But he tried not to think of that as Karkat's sweet touch worked him, coaxing his ovipositor out of him, something thin and rigid, more robotic looking than he'd expected.

Karkat realized how weird this might be for a troll that hadn't been schoolfed for a whole sweep about troll ovipositors and the biological mating process. It would have been unspeakably weird to him before all of that, but now it was only just as he expected it to be. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about this part, getting himself mentally prepared, and now, surprisingly, he was. The ovipositor was much more slender than Gamzee's bulge, but longer than the depth of his own nook. He knew it was supposed to fit through his seedflap, and he thought it would. 

He shifted on the edge of the bed, drawing his feet up to perch on the edge, beside his glutes, his knees spread open as he wrapped one hand around Gamzee's hip, pulling him closer and guiding the tip of his long appendage into his nook, which was very, very slick with his own arousal. Once the tip was in, he let out a little breath, and leaned back flat onto his back on the soft platfotm, reaching out for Gamzee's hips, and pulling him closer, slowly, the ovipositor sliding easily enough through his nook until it bumped against his seedflap, which elicited a little low groan of pleasure from him. It rippled and flexed, and carefully, he drew Gamzee closer another inch, exhaling slowly and forcing that very sensitive seal of flesh to relax, to let the girth of his ovipositor penetrate past it, a very strange, very intense sensation.

Gamzee went as slow as he possibly could - his bulge, he always had some idea of what was happening, but the ovipositor only seemed to be sensitive near the very tip and on the inside - he could feel the pressure from Karkat's nook as it fluttered a little, but not much else. Eventually, they got it in, though, and Gamzee sighed a little, kissing Karkat again, a little show of praise. His own thighs were spread to either side of the younger troll's body, keeping some leverage, but his hands were stroking his little lover's forehead, his arm, reveling in the soft closeness between them.

Karkat exhaled, shaky, but then smiled, stroking his fingers up Gamzee's chest, against his throat, tracing his jaw, touching the edges of his ears, not wanting to rub his fingers against the paint on his face too much, in case it smudged. "That's nice," he murmured, meaning all of it, and let his lashes lower, sighing, relaxing his body in preparation for being stretched around Gamzee's eggs, a little nervous and a little excited both.

"Is it? I don't motherfuckin know. We've found the exclusive thing you got way more life experience with, little brother." Gamzee told him, though... Something certainly was... /Happening/. His body was doing something, a strange contraction of the muscles in his lower abdomen, which was weird. Normally, shed eggs shriveled up inside of a troll, and just flushed out through the nook with their heat cycle. But this was an alien feeling, his muscles not working to push them down but forward, and certainly not the small little things that could be easily flushed out a load gaper and forgotten.

His hands moved on the larger troll, stroking from his hips down his thighs, just to give himself something to do other than lay splayed out on his back, waiting. "Well I don't know about life experience, but they showed me a truly exhaustive number of schoolfeeds on this." He informed Gamzee with a little dry chuckle. When he felt the swell of the first egg press up against his nook, he bit his lip, took a deep breath, and willed his nook to stay relaxed. The ovipositor inside of him swelled more and more, and when he was sure that had to be the widest point, it stretched him even /more/ and despite how hard he was biting into his lip, a little muffled yelp of pain escaped him, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

Truthfully, Gamzee had sort of been caught up in the sensation of the egg inside of him, too. The feeling inside the damn ovipositor was ten times what he felt near the tip, and he could feel every contour of that egg - along with the pressure of Karkat's nook trying to take it. But the noise he made snapped Gamzee out of it, and he realized that his egg, while desperately trying to press forward, wasn't getting very far, Karkat's body starting to tense at the pain. "Oh, shit. Fuck." he hissed, moving himself back maybe a little too quickly. Whatever fucking mechanism controlled his damn bone bulge didn't like that, and he hissed as his egg rolled out, over the bed, useless, abdomen still contracting, ready to pass another, and soon. "Fuck. Karkat, I'm... Are you okay?"

Another low sound escaped him, a little more panicked as Gamzee pulled back. On the one hand, relief had rushed through him, his throbbing, stretched nook finally free of that awful pressure, but on the other hand, it meant he'd failed. The relief was very short lived. "No," he choked out, eyes widening a little. "Don't pull out, please." He begged him, grabbing onto his hips again, and pressing his nook back onto his ovipositor with a wriggle and a thrust of his hips, gasping when it penetrated through his seedflap again. "Listen, it doesn't matter if it hurts me. I have to. You have to. If it tears me open I'll heal, but if I can't do it, they'll cull me."

It made the back of Gamzee's throat catch, which was a damn sight more than most everything he'd dealt with in the past nine hundred sweeps. He'd become numb to most suffering, but for some reason, this tiny little limeblood begging for his life made him suffer, and intensely. But he knew that Karkat's fears were well founded - useless limebloods mysteriously died on their voyages back to the central planet, and Gamzee couldn't defend him if he wasn't worth something in objective terms; juggalos didn't do love for love's sake, and especially not aboard the flagship. His fingers touched Karkat's temple. "I can twist your reality." he murmured. "I promise it don't scramble your pan none, if I don't want to hurt you. But it can... Make you numb. To that, I mean..."

Karkat swallowed, and nodded. He didn't have much choice except to trust Gamzee, and he'd been nothing but inexplicably kind to him thusfar. He didn't want it to hurt, and he didn't want it to seem like it hurt, since that was obviously distressing the indigoblood. He locked his gaze up on his, eyes widening as the purple glow in his eyes intensified, caught mesmerized by it, like a antlerbeast in a high beam.

He could have torn up Karkat's mind right then; he felt it deep in his gut, sure as any other instinct. He could have stripped him bare of personality, made him into a mindless, pretty pailing machine that lived for nothing but pleasing him. But Gamzee didn't; the thought of hurting Karkat hurt /him/, in a very strange but very real way. So he reached into him gently, eyes aglow, and shifted his perception - let him transfer pain to pleasure, let him experience intensity in one key only as Gamzee felt his ovipositor stretch around another egg, making him groan low in his throat.

Karkat's eyes were still glossy with unshed tears, but his expression shifted, all the tension leaving his face, and body too, as he fell back flat, still looking up at Gamzee but limp as a doll, lips parting to draw in a slow breath. The discomfort in his nook had disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving it warm and tingling, along with every inch of his skin everywhere else. His muscles were so relaxed, and he could feel his nook pulse eagerly. When the next egg started to stretch him, he experienced it as a burst of warmth, coiling pleasure in his gut and he moaned, the sound fading into a pleased chirr as he reached out to grab ahold of Gamzee wherever he could reach him, using him for leverage as he eagerly thrust down against him. 

The way his nook tore at the edges was just another sweet pleasure, sharp instead of blunt, like tangy lemon candy instead of sugary toffee. He could feel blood leak out of him, but that felt good too, and he couldn't remember why it would matter. When the egg pressed up through his nook, stretching him there more than he'd ever been stretched, more than he was meant to be, he only keened for more, hips shifting in little needy jerking motions, milking the solid, smooth shape through his nook, until it was up against his seedflap. He could feel it resist the girth of it and he whined, impatient.

Gamzee made a thousand and a thousand more promises to himself, to Karkat, quietly: he would fix him up with medigel, he would threaten and cajole whoever he had to for pain killers that weren't just sopor stuffed through his gob, he would never ever have another brood again, never hurt Karkat or any small, sweet thing like him if he had a chance. His stomach churned as he felt the seedflap tear around his egg, the pop of it sinking into Karkat's body something that made Gamzee shiver and hiss. He was shaking a little, too, not expecting this to be so emotional for him, not expecting that the blissed out cries of the little limeblood would make him feel so vicious and /vile/, a heretic desecrating a holy altar.

When the skin finally tore, and the egg passed through his flap, into his incubation sac, he sighed contentedly, chirring again, and seeming entirely oblivious to any stormy thoughts Gamzee was having. This was right, his body told him, he'd done what he was supposed to do, and it felt so good. The smooth shape of the egg settled into him, a solid weight in his abdomen, not uncomfortable at all, just noticeable. He smoothed his fingers over his own abdomen, as if he could feel it from the outside. "More," he murmured to Gamzee, breathy and totally separated from his own trollish propriety, a creature composed entirely of a biological imperative, the overpowering surge of pheromones mixing with the thick syrup of Gamzee's chucklevoodoos to make him both pliant and needy.

"...Yeah. Okay." he murmured to Karkat, keeping his gaze focused on that pretty face, on how hotly it was flushed. He kept a mind to that, made that his entire world, like the next egg pressing out of his body wasn't, in fact, two in close issue, making a short trip through Gamzee's body and into Karkat's, making his facial features twist in ecstasy that Gamzee was trying hard to pretend was well deserved.

He gurgled a pleased noise, something nearly feral as his thick lashes fluttered, gasping and squeezing his hands against Gamzee's shoulders as the eggs pressed through into him, pure heat rippling through his nook and seedflap, a sweet ache that left him wanting more, when they were settled inside of him. He'd stopped rocking his hips so insistently, but he spread his knees open even wider instead, arching his back a little to feel his ovipositor shift inside of him just a fraction deeper.

Gamzee was almost tempted to let go of his mind; he wanted Karkat back, he wanted his little brother who could be funny and sweet and sour all at the same time. But he had learned a long time ago that it mattered very little in the grand scheme of things what he wanted. What mattered far more were the things he had to /do/, and he grit his teeth and did this, two more eggs pressing out through his ovipositor before it started to retract all on its own, seemingly done, leaving Gamzee to curl up over Karkat for a moment, his long curling hair veiling both their faces in the darkened room, even for just a little while.

The rest as was easy and sweet as that second egg had been, and he sighed, content, when he felt the ovipositor slide back out of him. He leaned up, into the dark curtain of Gamzee's hair, making a little giddy noise that was almost a laugh, and rubbed his face up against his, scenting him, forgetting about his paint entirely. He was a creature made of pailing instinct now, not logic.

He smelled so good, and he sounded so sweet, and Gamzee had never in his life felt so abhorrent. But he had to do it, and so he held Karkat's head nestled against one hand as his bulge slid between the little limeblood's legs, past the blood and the genetic material leaking out of him. His other hand held Karkat's hips back, determined not to give him any more of his bulge than his body would naturally take. Determined not to tear him up in some other way, too.

He kept rubbing up against him, chirring and kissing and licking at his skin, sighing when his bulge slid into him, and shifting up against it, only to have Gamzee's hand hold him down. He didn't mind this though, and he just squeezed his thighs against his hips, his tingling, stretched nook working the best it was able to contract down around his bulge, to milk out the slurry that his body instinctively knew those eggs needed.

It was easier than Gamzee had thought it would be; he'd thought that his dread and guilt would kill everything, but he was wrong. The pheromones were still going strong, and the closer he was to Karkat, and the longer they were kissing, and the more his bulge got soaked in the genetic material of Karkat's nook, the more that his body reacted. It didn't take long at all for his bulge to knot up, the tip of it thrashing around in Karkat before spilling a good bit deep inside of him - though, admittedly, at least half of it painted the outside of him, too.

Karkat didn't entirely have the presence of mind to be grateful for the overflow of Gamzee's slurry, mixing with and overwhelming his own color until it was entirely lost in the subjuggulator's purple hue, even if the lights were to snap on at full brightness now, there probably wouldn't be any trace of red. He groaned when he drew out, letting his eyes flutter closed, letting his hands fall back down to smooth over his own abdomen, visibly swollen from the sheer volume of slurry, from the big smooth eggs that were now nestled inside of him. His torn seedflap was swelling up, keeping in the bulk of the slurry as the tears stopped bleeding so much, clotting as Gamzee's bulge withdrew and his nook closed up again.

 

Very gently, Gamzee brushed off what he could of the mess, wiping his hand on the sheets of the resting platform before he sank back off of it. Karkat was still beautiful, and Gamzee was still determined to protect him, and he picked the little limeblood up off of the bed, intent on carrying him to the other side of the room, into the sopor. You know. As sure as he was certain he hadn't accidentally ruined everything, spoiled the most beautiful miracle that had ever occurred in his miserable life. Slowly, he pulled his grip off of Karkat's mind, watching him with an uneasy gaze, hoping the residual pleasure of being filled would cancel out the pain for now.

He came to with a deep, quick breath, like surfacing from a dream, or breaking through the surface of a pool of water after holding his breath. His eyes widened and he stared at Gamzee, as if he'd only just now really registered the full extent of what had happened. He let out a tight hiss, as his nook clenched up in a ripple, reactionary, and the pain that had been registering as a dull, pleasant throb, seized ahold of his insides. He took another deep breath and willed himself past that, let the sopor take the edge off of his senses. "We did it," he said, a little shakily, then laughed. Though it was a coarse sound, it was genuine, too, relieved, and he leaned forward to press his forehead into Gamzee's shoulder. "SWEET mother grub's oozing vestigal third oral sphincter, my nook feels like it's been scrubbed out with maximum grit sandpaper, set on fire, and then stabbed a couple of times with a full sized culling fork for good measure. Stick a pronged utensil in me and turn me over, I think I'm done. Fuck, did I just say all that out loud? Well while I'm already digging this hole into a bottomless well, did you know your eggs are the same size as my fucking useless braincase? Am I babbling, because you can just drown me in the sopor any time you want, really, just shove me in and hold me down until I stop thrashing and welcome the sweet oblivion of death."

"I'm sorry." Gamzee told him, a little shell shocked, not quite knowing how to respond. Normally, he'd laugh, but he was actually worried about Karkat. That this was a reaction to what they'd done, that despite it being his duty it wasn't what he'd wanted, and now he was terrified. "You should have been getting some blueblood's brood. You won't have to do it again, I won't touch you -" he said, catching himself on a bad jag.

"Take that back right now, then clamp your chitinous windflap down on anything even distantly resembling some sort of self depricating remark and choke it the fuck down your nutrition chute. What you did was fucking incredible, I feel like a goddamn superhero right now. I mean, yes, a superhero whose nook is on fire and abraded in a million places, but that's a temporary setback here, so let's keep our occulars on the big picture." He lifted his head, staring at Gamzee, his hands gripped hard against his shoulders. Filth might be gushing out of his mouth like a hopelessly backed up load gaper, but his gaze was intense, utter devotion. "The minute I heal back up I'm going at your bulge again, and we're going to mark my stopping point in grape flavored magic marker on that gorgeous monster, and by the time these eggs are ready to go you're going to have a ladder of purple lines notched up your fuck tentacle that would make any lusus proud. I don't want some goddamn blueblood, I want you." He took a ragged breath after this speech, and slid his hands up against Gamzee's face, leaning up and kissing him hard, as if he was driving his point home with the pressure of his mouth against the other troll's.

It took a couple rounds for Gamzee's pan to stop bashing itself up against the very prickly cage of his upbringing long enough to get Karkat's point through to him. By then he was being kissed, and there was no reaction his body had that wasn't going to be kissing Karkat right back, which admittedly gave him a little more time to sort his own personal bullshit. If he hadn't had crying drummed out of him when he was three sweeps old, he just might have done; but he had, so he didn't, his massive arms seizing Karkat and drawing him close, almost tight enough to be crushing, but just short. "Medigel will have you patched up in no time, little brother. I'll put it on with my damn tongue if I have to." he murmured, kissing the sopor-sticky pieces of Karkat's curls.

"Normally I would protest that as impractical, but considering the circumstances, yes: I decree that your tongue up my nook is the only acceptable way to speed along this healing process." He grinned, stupidly, and rubbed his jaw up against Gamzee's, rubbing his hands against the base of his long horns. Then he wheezed a little, laughing hoarsely, as Gamzee squeezed his arms around him, feeling the drowsy pull of the sopor on his senses. "Promise me…" he remembered, right on the edge of falling asleep. "Promise me you'll wake me up before you take me out of the sopor…"

It was an odd request, but Gamzee was somewhat used to oddities. The fact that his little miracle brother should have his own merely proved, to him, how much he was meant to be there, how serendipitous this all was, after all. "Alright brother." he told Karkat, kissing him a last time as he watched the other troll let go into the high concentration sopor, much higher than what it was for average trolls. He curled himself around Karkat, and for once, fell into a deep, unbothered sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of our headcanon heights for the characters, though of course you're free to imagine your own:  
> Karkat: 5'5"  
> Gamzee: 8'  
> GHB: 14'  
> Sollux: 6'6"  
> Eridan: 7'2"


	2. The Flagship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat confronts Gamzee about his mutation, and Gamzee shows Karkat around the ship. Karkat finally pesters Kanaya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 Tags:  
> Gamzee/Karkat - Aftercare - Pale Fluff - Hurt/Comfort

Karkat was unconscious too before he could say another word, slipping limply into the sopor and blacking out to an utter dreamless calm. He lost all sense of time and self in that high concentration sopor, and when he felt large hands pulling him up to the surface, his eyes snapped open and he gasped, as startled as he'd been when Gamzee's mind control had let him go, coming back to himself suddenly, disoriented, not sure where he was or even who he fucking was for a minute. When he remembered, he groaned, "Fuck, is it time to be awake again already? Feels like I just passed out a minute ago."

"I know, little brother. You'll get used to it, though. And 'sides, I did make your sweet little self a promise to get you up, didn't I?" Gamzee asked, his tone incredibly mild. Karkat looked cute, even covered in slime, eyes barely cracked open. Would the miracles never fucking cease? He thought not. "You want some breakfast? Or medigel, first?"

He mulled this over, shifting. His nook didn't truly hurt yet, just a dull sort of ache that he knew wouldn't last long after he'd gotten his ass up out of the sopor. On the other hand, he had to have a real good strategy here for making sure Gamzee didn't see his color. So breakfast first, to give him some time to think about that. "If it's all the same to you, maybe I could take a quick turn in the ablution trap and eat something first? Maybe get my robe back on, if you don't mind."

"Shit, no, motherfucker. Though I can't pretend I ain't going to miss that sweet little figure of yours." Gamzee told him. He seemed to get the idea that Karkat wanted to take that ablution alone, and while that was a little disappointing, he guessed he couldn't blame the little limeblood. After all, he bet he was a damn sight less breathtaking to Karkat than Karkat was to him. "If you walk to the front of the room by the pool there's this little glowing circle thing. You just put your paw on it and it'll open its wicked self right up for you."

"Okay," he agreed, then paused a minute, thoughtful, and reached out to hook one hand around the back of Gamzee's neck. "Hey," he said, serious enough, then pulled him in to press his mouth against his, his pusher beating fast. It was strange, and more than a little exhilarating, to lay hands on Gamzee like that, to have the fear of being instantly culled for disrespect fade more and more the longer he was around the other troll. His size, which was so intimidating, the sharp, careful contrast of his black and white paint, his long horns, any of it would have been downright terrifying on someone else. But it wasn't someone else, it was Gamzee, who had been more gentle with him than maybe anyone else could have, whose eggs he had nestled snugly in his abdomen as a slight, constant pressure.

There was no sudden turning, like might have happened in some troll movie, where the lowblood was punished for their presumption, taught their place. Gamzee just kissed him back, stroking his claws lightly along Karkat's spine before the other drew away with a little shiver. "Go get cleaned up, lime twist. Plenty of time for that noise after we got you fed and steamed, yeah?"

He waited for Karkat to disengage, not encouraging anything else, despite wanting to. Someone had to be sensible about things, and Gamzee was utterly fucked if the little limeblood had sucked him dry of /all/ his duty in one day. When Karkat had disappeared into the ablution block, Gamzee pulled himself out of the sopor, sluicing most off of his body and tying a good deal of his hair back from his face. He could bathe after he got breakfast, he reasoned, and pulled on a pair of pants before he traipsed off into the belly of the ship to clobber some knuckleheads for a good share of the sweeter foods for Karkat. It was only coming back he realized that he'd made an assumption, but then... Gamzee normally had four or five heaping platters of food for breakfast anyway, so he was certain that the wriggler would find /something/ he enjoyed.

Karkat made short work of scrubbing himself clean, partly because the longer he was out of the sopor, the harder it was to stand up without his throbbing nook reminding him what he'd done to it. Padding through the block, he found his robe and slipped it back on and tying it, then falling in a miserable heap into one of the chairs at the nutrition plateau to feel sorry for himself. He straightened when Gamzee came back in with the food though, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping a little. First, there was the sheer /amount/ of grub, and second was the /variety/. "Holy shit, I hope most of that's for you. I mean, not saying I won't try to make a very fucking impressive dent but that's like half my body weight in chow. ...Fuck, are those candied beetles? For breakfast? Count me as a convert right now."

"Save that for vespers, little brother. See if your zealotry holds over some." Gamzee told him, though it wasn't mean. And he certainly didn't need prompting a second time - he set down those beetles in front of Karkat forthwith, along with the plate they were on, piled with powdered grubrings and little bite sized cakes. "Yeah. They got to have the few warmbloods who sign on doing something, don't they? Most of em work in the kitchen, with a couple carapaces. Been that way since I came on board. You'll never run out of them beetles when there's a carpacian on deck."

"Wow," he remarked, fervently, but didn't waste any more time rambling on when they were candied beetles and glazed grubrings to be shoving voraciously down his gullet. He even forgot about the burning ache in his nook while he wolfed them down, until he felt like he might explode if he took one more bite. He hadn't realized how truly ravenous he'd been until he started chewing that first mouthful. He finally slowed down, licking his fingers a little sheepishly, looking up at Gamzee, worried he'd behaved like too much of a brute for polite company again.

While Gamzee wasn't eating at near the pace Karkat was, he was still polishing off a lot more. It took a fuck ton of food to keep him satisfied, and - Oh, he thought. Karkat didn't know. "You might want to overeat instead of undereat, if that's what you were doing. We only get two meals in general. I could probably fix it different for you, though, if you wanted." he said, before tearing off another hunk of meat about the size of his own fist and downing it in a quick gulp.

Karkat finished licking his fingers, and then his lips, more thoughtfully. Back on-planet they'd had three meals a day, and snacks between too, if they got peckish. The food wasn't as rich, or as high quality or sugary as the spread that Gamzee had brought him, in fact it was mostly sort of bland and unremarkable. "Well, I stuffed myself near to bursting, so I think I'll make it to dinner. Don't worry on my behalf anyway, I'll be sure tell you if I'm thinking about gnawing my own arm off in hunger."

Gamzee paused, and looked at Karkat, half wary, and half teetering on the edge of touched. " Did you... Intend to spend your time with me?" he asked, tentative, as though he hadn't expected that. Primarily because he hadn't; he had expected that perhaps a mating fondness had come over Karkat, but not an actual matesprit kind of fondness, not even a friendly desire to be around him.

"Oh." He said, feeling a bit stupid. What the hell did he think, that he was going to follow Gamzee around the ship like a baby quackbeast? That he was going to sit by and supportively cheer him on as he did whatever the bloody hell subjuggulators did all day? Give rousing sermons, drink faygo, and bash in people's heads, from what little Karkat knew about it. "I guess I didn't think that through, really. What do limebloods usually do all night?"

"I don't know. It's... Primarily at the whim of their... Motherfuck, superior sounds fucking wrong in this sense, ain't it? But I don't know, I was thinking of letting you do what you wanted. I mean, contrary like to what some motherfuckers in the empire got all up in their heads, we got books and shit. Art supplies of all kinds, instruments. Movies. I don't think you'd be real keen on fightin anyone on board but if you wanted to strife, we could set up a sim or, like, a carpace, I guess?" Gamzee said, rambling a little as his brows knit in thought. "You could... Come with me for most things, I guess. Nobody's gonna be fixing to get their bother on about you, they know. I just... Didn't think you'd want to be around all us, I guess."

He stared in surprise as Gamzee rambled on. He'd really expected the answer to be 'sit on their glutes and rot uselessly' and maybe that was what most breeders did aboard subjuggulator flagships, but apparently there were no laws about it. Or no laws Gamzee cared about, and that was all that mattered, wasn't it? A strange sense of power tugged at his thinkpan. If Gamzee gave a shit about him, which it seemed he really did, and listened to what Karkat wanted… and everyone else on the ship had to listen to what Gamzee wanted… his chances for survival were looking better and better. 

"I want to," he blurted out, surprising himself with how genuine it was. "I mean I'll probably just be in the getting underfoot like an awkward little hotblooded shit, maybe someone will have a good laugh tripping over me and falling on their painted face, then getting in a fight over who gets to cull me first for being such an egregious fuckup. But as long as you don't care, and no one else cares, I'd like to be with you."

"Karkat." Gamzee said, and all of the sudden there was something consuming about his voice, deep and serious, as though bidding every other force in the universe to hush a damn moment while he spoke. And to be honest, he was entirely serious, and those forces had better, because he wanted his little limeblood to take this to the pusher. "If any motherfucker even looks at you the wrong damn way, I will tear their occulars out their fuckin head and make them eat that shit. You could punch em in the nook and they ain't supposed to do shit to you and that is motherfucking LAW, LITTLE BROTHER, AIN'T NO FILTHY HERETIC SUPPOSED TO LAY ONE STRAY /LOOK/ ON YOU NOW."

Karkat was staring yet again, wide eyed and transfixed as Gamzee's voice raised to something booming and terrible, something that shook him to the molecular core of his being. He'd intellectually known that Gamzee, a high ranking subjuggulator, could command that kind of total attention as easy as breathing, but being the focus of it was something else entirely. He opened his mouth, and found that he couldn't even squeak out a sound, then nodded instead, dazed. In that same daze, he slid half up out of his chair and reached for Gamzee's hand across the table, pulling it over closer to him, and bending his head down to kiss his knuckles, sweet, as his fingers crept against his palm. "Thanks," he finally managed to croak out, blinking and trying hard not to flush and give himself away. 

He prayed then, to gods he didn't fully believe in, that Gamzee somehow miraculously wouldn't care about his mutation when he inevitably found out. That he could have him, that they could have each other, that Karkat could bear him a batch of big, healthy indigo grubs with Gamzee's long sharply gaunt features and surprisingly soft eyes.

He seemed to snap out of it at that little kiss, his passions settled back into his head as his hand turned up, gripped Karkat's jaw for a moment before it stroked him, softly. He cracked a small, almost apologetic smirk. "Ain't nothin to thank me for. As much religion as it is my pusher. You got something holy in you brother, objectively as not."

He shivered, pleasantly, at the grip on his jaw, then relaxed into the stroke of his fingers, resting his cheek down against his broad palm, not really planning on giving him back his hand anytime soon. He could eat with one hand nearly as well, right? Right.

Gamzee did him one better, leaning forward to draw Karkat onto his lap for a moment, seating him on one of his massive thighs and holding him against his chest with one arm, continuing as usual with the other. After all, it would be vespers and then fighting, and he didn't want to be low on energy when he went about his night. Especially, he thought with a little chagrin at the wrigglerishness of the want, if he wanted to seem impressive in combat in front of Karkat.

Karkat was perfectly content just there, full of rich sugary food, and nestled up against Gamzee's broad, cool chest, his own hands stroking his sides, over his ribs and grubscars, his cheek resting against him. As long as he didn't shift around much, the pain in his nook was tolerable, even if he were a giant wiggler about pain in general. He was too busy feeling relieved to complain, anyway. He reminded himself to ask whether he could send a message to Kanaya later, to thank her for the match, to tell her he was doing fine, that he was happy and being taken care of, and so far so good on everything else.

Gamzee held him until he was done eating, but he decided that the ablution could wait until after he was done with Karkat's treatment. He washed his hands in the little dish of water the carapaces always put on one of the trays, and wiped his hands on his pants before he picked his little lover up. "Let's get that nook of yours sorted, little brother. You want something to numb you up full besides the medigel? We got the good shit here."

He hesitated a little, then nodded. "Yeah, okay. I'll be the first to admit I'm kind of a limpbulged wimp when it comes to pain, and like an utter tool I'd rather suffer humiliation than discomfort so yes, I'll take anything you've got to give me. Thanks for going to the trouble. You're a really terrible highblood, did you know that?" He smiled a little, and rested his head on Gamzee's shoulder, surprisingly relaxed and pliant as he was picked up.

"Wouldn't be alive if that were true. Turns out that I can reserve the microscopic part of my big ass pusher that's ain't hard as a rock for some sort of limetwist miracle from the messiahs, though." he replied, moving maybe a little more slowly than was necessary, wanting to hold Karkat like that as long as possible, to feel all his curls and his hot, soft cheek pressed up against his own bare shoulder. When he finally did set Karkat down, he came back swiftly with a glass, a few blue pills, and a generic tube of medigel. "Pills are sugar coated, they should go down just fine. You'll feel like you got a head full of helium for a second, though."

Karkat nodded as he took them, then threw them back without any hesitation, swallowing down a gulp of water to wash them the rest of the way down. Sure enough, after a moment, his head swam and he swayed where he sat, blinking, then let out a long sigh, as he felt tingling numbness start to spread between his legs, as the pills dissolved and started to work.

"They'll keep you like that a whole night. Like the medigel." he told Karkat, because he knew from experience. While the rest of the empire had ideas about what went on onboard the flagship of the church, most of the ideas were watered down versions of secondhand stories that had been repeated lies from generations ago. If you died on the battlefield, then it was where you were meant to be; if you made it back, it was considered the will of the messiahs that you live, and they tried to make that manageable as they could. He knelt on the floor before Karkat again, though this time he only moved his robes and legs apart enough to get clear access to his nook. He'd rounded off his claw for this, just on the finger he would need to apply it, but wise enough to know a scratch was the last thing he needed inside of his nook. Predictably, Karkat tensed a little, but it was followed by a sigh of almost immediate relief - medigel numbed, and fast, and Gamzee could probably fuck him with a fistful of claws at that point, and Karkat wouldn't have known the difference.

He bit into his bottom lip when Gamzee's finger pressed into him, slick with the cold medigel, prodding into the torn, swollen flesh of his nook. It was even hotter than it usually was, the blood concentrated there, trying to heal the area as best it could. Karkat might have been a wimp about pain, but his healing time was excellent, his body seemingly set on apologizing to him in some small way for his ugly mutatant blood, and for his abominable, constant clumsiness. The medigel worked blissfully fast though, and he sighed in relief, feeling Gamzee's long digit slide even further into him to dab the gel up against his seedflap, feeling a dull pressure there but not the sharp pain he'd had moments before whenever he shifted wrong.

When he was certain he'd been treated right - meaning he'd stopped making those little hitches of breath entirely, even when Gamzee's finger put pressure against his seedflap, he pulled his digit out of Karkat's nook. Offering a small kiss on the forehead, he promised he'd be back - from the look on Karkat's face, he wasn't going to understand the concept of time any moment soon though, and so Gamzee beat a quick retreat to wash his hand, and himself, before vespers. Really, he would be late at this rate, but technically he'd have had a pass for the rite, in any case. So he let Karkat curl up on the bed, while he saw to an ablution, one of the few comforts of the day. 

The trouble was, he wasn't sure he hadn't somehow been pantwisted overnight, by some force of mating. He brought his hand up to wash it, but the shit he was picking out from under his nails was... Red. Brighter red than it should have been. He realized, belatedly, it was blood, and a little of the clotted skin, and that somehow it had come from Karkat. Gamzee stood in the steam of the shower, staring at it for a while, before slowly moving through the motions of his shower, thinking. Was he seeing things incorrectly? No, his heart told him, no. He had seen. But then... What could that mean? Karkat was a limeblood, not a maroon, and besides, the colour had been so... Bright, he thought, wringing out his hair and putting on a pair of pants as he walked from the ablution chamber, still frowning a little.

Karkat had laid there in a pleasant daze for awhile, listening to the sounds of the water rushing from the abolution block. When the sounds cut off, he struggled back up to sit upright again, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He felt a little drowsy, pleasant, but he shook his head. He wasn't going to take a damn nap, he was going to make himself useful. Well, okay, not useful, but at least present. He could manage that. If Gamzee was prepared to tolerate him by his side, Karkat was determined to be there.

Gamzee's frown smoothed out when he saw Karkat on the bed, heavy lidded and relaxed. Trusting, he thought, and took a slow breath in, reminding himself that... Even if it were a mutation, they had already completed the rite. Even the Grand Highblood couldn't lay a hand on him now, if what he had his mind on being true was. He sat down beside Karkat a moment, touched his cheek. "Little brother... What colour are you?" he asked, deciding he would give Karkat a chance - to explain, to deflect, to do whatever he was going to do.

Karkat's eyes widened, and a little panicked noise escaped his thoat, his pusher suddenly kicking sharply into overdrive, and rational thoughts fleeing his pan entirely as a sudden, petrifying fight or flight impulse swept over him. Except, on top of that impulsive fight or flight, there was a stronger social coding that told him matter of factly that he should just lay bare his neck on the culling block while he could still do so with some dignity. That he should be glad he made it to adulthood at all, that he'd been a colossal tool for expecting anything other than what he had coming. Heat was rushing to his face and neck, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes as he tried to swallow down the thick lump in his throat. He must have still been bleeding, he realized. Idiot, he thought, imbicile. He could have applied the medigel himself, what had he been thinking? He'd blown it, over something so stupidly simple.

"I don't want to die," he blurted out, stupidly, wild with adrenaline. "I'm sorry I tricked you, I'm so sorry." His hands were curled to fists on his thighs, and he lowered his head, neck bent sharply, shoulders trembling. "I'm just like other limebloods, I've got the same DNA sequencing. I've got the same anatomical quirks. I've got the same breeding capacity, true genetic neutrality. Nothing of what I am will ever ever get anywhere near your eggs, won't taint them, I swear." His voice got lower, rougher like it was being dragged bloody over gravel and glass as he continued, and tears dropped silently from under his mop of hair onto his tightly clenched fists. "You won't have to even look at me anymore if you don't want to, just lock me up until I'm done bearing your eggs, and you can send me back like it never happened, no one has to know…. please, please." His shoulders were shaking more, and he finally choked up too much to keep talking, his eyes still glued down onto his lap, blurry with hot tears.

Gamzee reached out for him again, but when Karkat jerked so fretfully, he didn't try to press it. He merely folded his hands in his lap and waited a moment, his voice trained as quiet as it would go. "Brother, you ain't tricked anybody." he murmured. "So you're a mutant. Plenty of mutants been hatched. You got something useful out of this serendipitous shit. The messiahs made something deep beautiful out of you when they made your little cherry-limeade self. I ain't fixin to spit in the face of that bitchtits blessing.'

A little incredulous sob escaped him, and he tried to blink away his tears as he tipped his face up towards Gamzee. Gamzee, whose large, powerful hands with their sharp claws and grip that could no doubt crush his skull easy as anything, folded in his lap. Gamzee, who could probably shout down an entire congregation of raucous indigobloods, who nonetheless was speaking to him so softly, so patiently. He stared another moment, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening was actually happening, that it wasn't some kind of trick. Then he threw himself at him, arms wrapped around his neck tightly, face pressed into him, his skin feeling so blessedly cool against his overheated face. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." He mumbled, as soon as he could find the words, unspeakably grateful, relieved, amazed at what had fallen into his lap.

Well, really, Karkat had fallen into Gamzee's, but he wasn't about to argue the perspective. He was careful to move slow as he put his arms around his little lover, bright as redpop and twice as sweet, the imperial red that every hearted quadrant bled. He kissed Karkat's curls , paws stroking him for a moment, holding him against his chest as Karkat sobbed into his hair a little. It was alright. Gamzee could wait. As long as he had Karkat, he felt he could manage. "Already told you there ain't nothin to thank me for. You're more miracle than troll at this point, brother... You want me to keep my gob shut, I will. You want me to rip the head off any motherfucker who makes threats if you tell? I will. "

He trembled in his arms, wondering how he'd gotten so lucky, as he wiped the tears and snot from his face onto his own shoulder, taking a shaking breath, trying to pull himself together and be less of a fucking humiliating wreck. He nodded, eventually, and loosened his arms so they weren't clamped around Gamzee in a deathgrip, just draped over his shoulders. He leaned in and kissed his throat, soft and meek, stopping himself before he repeated the same words he'd been babbling. "I'm glad I met you." He said, instead, and felt warmth drip all through the core of him, molten starry-eyed affection. Gamzee would protect him, would protect their eggs. Everything would be fine. Everything would be fucking amazing.

"Some kind of stars got themselves in the sky these here nights, you're right about that." Gamzee told him, still holding him close. He felt protective of Karkat still, and every moment he was near him that feeling seemed to grow. "For what it's worth," Gamzee said, with a little humour in his voice, "It really is a damn shame they aren't breeding more of you, brother."

He groaned and headbutted the indigo in the shoulder. "Yeah fucking right, I think the universe would implode in disgruntled disgust if there were more than one of me. The time space continuum definitely could not handle two trolls of my abominable character. And all that aside I would be a colossal prick to wish these horns on anyone else."

"They could get caps for 'em." Gamzee murmured, his hands sliding a little more southward. He gripped Karkat's ass, squeezing it playfully and not at all minding when he was sputtered and swatted at for it, kissing Karkat's neck. "Denying the next generation of this ass seems a tragic fucking loss, brother."

"Are you trying to say my horns are so nubby they need caps to even approach on respectability? Wow thanks, I feel so—hnngg." He scowled and swatted at Gamzee when his ass was squeezed, but blushed like an idiot regardless, and found himself tipping his head back and rolling his hips forward when Gamzee's mouth pressed against his neck. "Aren't we going to be late to something?" He complained, though there was very little chagrin in it, when Gamzee was sucking into his skin like that.

"Mm, vespers. You could sleep here, though, if you were feeling it. Don't know that carnival will make much sense if you ain't a believer." Gamzee said. He pressed two more kisses to Karkat's cheek and temple. "And I don't reckon I could keep my hands off you, besides."

He wanted to argue that he didn't need a nap, that he was up for it, but when he opened his mouth to protest he yawned instead. Well fucking fine, maybe he /sort of/ wanted a nap. "…All right. Maybe next time?" He asked, and stroked his fingers through Gamzee's wild hair, which had been half tamed by the way he'd pulled it back, when he'd emerged from the trap.

"Next time, brother. Sleep." he murmured, kissing Karkat on his face a few good times, and his hands a few extra, before he could finally be assed to get up and dress properly.

 

*

 

Vespers were the same as they ever were - loud, and chaotic, and full of blood and sermons, murmurs and shouts that rang through the room, transfixed everyone to his ancestor as he delivered his speeches. Kurloz was damn good at speaking, and damn good at much more, and Gamzee had the respect to sit in the back, quiet until he was needed, until he was called on for his blood. The same that he gave every day.

Vespers always went a little blurry after that. He couldn't remember the last half for the life of him, but he came away smelling of his own blood and his ancestor's scent, cloaked all around him like a veil of heavy incense, curling up through his pan and wafting around there, making it all hazy. He'd come back to his room though, at least lucid enough for that, padding over to Karkat, who was curled up on his bed, in a nest of silk covers all around him, making Gamzee smile. "Hey, little brother... Arena's up next. You wanna come watch?"

"Yes," he said definitively, before he even mostly registered the question, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes, which were still a little puffy from all that crying earlier. The covers fell away and revealed that he'd shed his robe in order to nestle himself more luxurious in all those heavy bunched folds of silk. He pushed himself up onto his bare feet, his nook still tingling pleasantly numb, and reached for his robe, which was draped over the bed, neatly.

"I can give you regular clothes, brother. Robes what you normally got your bad self wrapped up in? I can't see it." he grinned, stroking Karkat's cheek. He took his hand, and led him like a little wriggler for the first couple steps at least, letting his brain wake up for some kind of pithy reply.

He sputtered a little in surprise before settling on a slightly petulant, "No," as he followed Gamzee, sure on his feet after the first few steps but not letting go of his hand either, despite how foolish it made him feel. "I usually just wore tshirts and worn in jeans that my fashionable jadeblooded keeper was waxing truly and deeply pitch for."

"We can get you some of that shit. Or we could have it shipped?" Gamzee said, wanting Karkat to be comfortable. But he wanted, too, to see him as he was, not held together with silk robes and careful manners. Gamzee hadn't worn a tshirt when he was young, but he was well familiar with the protocol now, the administration of basic necessities to all wrigglers. It made sense that a limeblood, essentially living in an empire housing planet, would have much of the same, if he had a mind for nothing else. And few of the younger generation seemed to, all the time.

He nodded, but then hesitated, frowning. "I don't know. It doesn't seem right to wear the same lazy crap I used to wear to piss off my minder, and because I couldn't be assed to wear anything nicer. You're right, the robe isn't really me, but I don't want to make you look bad, either. On the other hand I don't know the first fucking thing about fashion, or what would look good on me. Maybe I could ask my fashion-minded jadeblood? Or, you know, I'm fine with wearing whatever you like. Or whatever seems suitable for me, I don't know." This was fucking confusing, but he was pretty sure he stuck by what he said before about the crap he used to be seen in.

"You just gotta do what you feel, brother. But if you want advice from your... Jadeblood. You can talk to her this morning, before we take a roll in the sopor." Gamzee was grinning at him, loving his contrary, sweet little mutant. He wouldn't have been ashamed if Karkat wanted to walk around in his underwear, but he could appreciate that he was trying to be mindful of being Gamzee's very public mate.

He nodded, then grinned back a little. "So were you actually leading me to a wardrobifier, or was this an elaborate setup to get me into your closet for steamy makeouts so that you can blame me while you play hooky from bloodying up some poor idiot in the arena?"

"I was leading you to that poor idiot, actually. Or where the motherfucker's gonna be. Just figured I'd offer, in case you was tired of your threads." Gamzee told him, not letting go of Karkat's hand as they walked out of his quarters, and through the halls. It was a path Gamzee walked every night, and so he didn't have to think about where his feet were taking him. "It ain't mandatory right now anyway. But it's good to work off steam. And I figure I might show off a little."

Karkat smirked a little, and hurried his footsteps to keep up with Gamzee's long strides, keeping his hand squeezed against his big paw, feeling even more like a tiny stunted runt than usual, but not in an altogether unpleasant way. Not when the troll he was being stunted by was so easy to admire. He looked around them as they walked, the hallways might have been familiar and well-trod to Gamzee, but Karkat was seeing them for the first time. The passage through the halls that first night was sort of a big fuzzy blank in his mind, he'd been too fatally nervous to really use much of his pan for anything except putting one foot in front of the other in sequence.

They were an interesting kind of labyrinth to any outsider, meaning anyone who hadn't already spent more sweeps than not on board. The hallways were by no means bare, strung with a hodgepodge of tapestries and ghoulish paintings and laden with artifacts that some troll had decided found their place there. The shades of lighting changed from one bulb to the next, a riot in and of itself - one foot of light would be green, the next yellow, the next pink. Sometimes you could walk in blacklight for twenty minutes. There were spouts of music and sounds coming from different directions, but none that could permeate one's consciousness entirely if one didn't follow the path. But Gamzee's tread was sure, and eventually, a massive entryway slid open, letting himself and Karkat feed into the arena.

It was a stadium kind of set up, with raised seating and a low platform in the middle - it was big enough for a good sized ship to land entirely in the actual arena space and still have some comfortable space to wiggle in just right. That was necessary, though - sometimes the simulations were robots, floods of them, or massive beasts from other planets, meant to train them to their upcoming quarry. "Eloise again." Gamzee murmured, looking down at the ring with mild interest, as a rather bluish indigo struck a robot through the eye socket with her spear. "She's always got a hankering for fucking shit up, you know? Expect she'll want another motherfucking go."

Karkat had been gawking at the hallways, and he wasn't given any reason to stop gawking when they moved into the arena. "It's fucking enormous, just how much fighting do you guys do? Never mind, don't answer that." He stepped close to Gamzee, his shoulder leaned against his arm, his hand still gripping against his. He watched the troll in the arena, Eloise, slaughtering robots like she had a very personal blood feud with each and every one of them and she would have to disembowl herself if she didn't very thoroughly thrash them all to a sparking mechanical pulp. "Wow, anger issues much?"

"Hahah, yeah. I mean, if some motherfucker is gonna start a brawl, it's usually her. Guess she feels she's gotta, though - she's pretty blue. Be eaten alive if she weren't as vicious as all that." Gamzee replied easily. The Grand Highblood wasn't expected to know everybody right off hand - he could just open a fucker's mind and see what he wanted, no damn reason to fret over names, really. But Gamzee had learned who most of the recruits were, either from notoriety or just pure time and coincidence. He watched Karkat watch Eloise for a while longer, perfectly content to do that, edging him a little closer to the ring so he could see better. As he expected, his cohorts made a wide fucking berth, their looks curious, maybe annoyed, but very carefully trained away from open hostility.

 

"Yeah," Karkat's mouth drew into a slightly more grim line at that, he could see the implications a of bluer tint. It just went to show how much something like that really fucking mattered around here. And everywhere else in the Empire. He felt a little self conscious holding Gamzee's hand, when other trolls started looking, but no one said anything, though he could feel the back of his neck prickling from the stares being bored into his back. Meanwhile, the troll in the arena was providing enough entertainment value to halfway distract him, her forms were vicious and elegant, the speed and competency with which she dispatched the remaining robots was extremely efficient and just a little pants-wettingly terrifying, in a good way. Well, it was good as long as he was on this side of the arena railing from her, anyway. "Are you going to fight against robots too? How many engineers are on this ship, anyway? Probably a lot if you get to go through fighting bots like that.."

"Near the whole bottom deck is engineers and workshops. A lot of blue and yellow. They don't come up to see us much. I could take you down sometime if you was feelin it." Gamzee explained, as Eloise finished what must have been her last robot. She usually saved the backflips for the last, anyway, and this time she managed about two turns in the air before she landed squarely on the bot's shoulders, stabbing her spear down through his neck and tearing off his head in a massive shower of sparks before leaping off, dainty and smug. She had every right to be, though, really - it /was/ impressive. Gamzee finally let go of Karkat's hand. "I gotta go do my thing, little brother. Don't let these fuckers give you no shit."

Karkat let go too, sort of reluctantly, feeling suddenly very exposed without the wall of Gamzee's bulk to shelter against. "All right, go give them hell." He told Gamzee, more confidently than he really felt. He wasn't some wiggler that needed babysitting, and he trusted pretty well in the rules that governed things. He had Gamzee's eggs inside of him, no one was going to cull him out of hand. Maybe. Hopefully. He watched Gamzee go, then darted a nervous glance in either direction, trying to look casual as he edged down to the front, as if he were just trying to get a better view, not at all because he wanted to be as close as possible to the subjuggulator whose protection he was under.

It wasn't like he was fooling much of anyone, but then, he didn't have to - nobody came after him. In fact, the only troll who seemed to be within ten feet of him was Eloise, herself, who was now watching Gamzee with a vicious, hungry kind of gaze. Very obviously, she would have liked to have been fighting /him/ - but that wasn't the point of the night's exercise. 

Karkat and Gamzee hadn't been there for the beginning, so there was no way for the redblood to know that the robots didn't come out in a thin trickle. They streamed out of the voids in the arena's walls, climbing over one another, rushing towards the center of the ring where Gamzee was. No way to control them, no mind to bend, Gamzee stood stock still until it seemed almost certain that they would overtake him.

But the moment one club was up in the air, the circle around him had been knocked back. He was at least twenty robots in to the fray before anybody's mind could catch up to the fact that he was fighting, somehow /faster/ than the much smaller indigo had been, and just as accurate with his swings as she'd been with her spear.

 

Karkat was leaning forward, fixed on Gamzee just as raptly as Eloise was, his hands gripped onto the rail that ran around the edge of the arena between the seats and the floor. He had to dodge a couple of flying robot parts every now and again, but he was nimble enough that this wasn't really a problem, and besides that they were being flung from so far away that he had plenty of time anyways. He'd been terrified for the first couple of moments that there had been some error, and that Gamzee was about to be eviscerated, but that was quickly assuaged when he started laying into the bots. 

Once and awhile he glanced over the side to eye Eloise, as if to make sure she weren't edging any closer towards his general vicinity. He wasn't sure why he cared, other than maybe she might pick him up bodily and throw him into the fray to piss off Gamzee, she had that sort of wild look about her that suggested she just might risk being culled for the right kind of exciting challenge.

She didn't, though. It was too much fun to try and keep up with what was happening - how Gamzee could pick one of the bots up and just fling it like so much dead weight, despite the fact that they weren't an inconsiderable load. His clubs were deadly, and his bare hands were lethal, and he had a tendency to do shit that got the rest of the crew in stitches - he'd taken the head off one of the robots and bowled it along to explode at the feet of a clutch of its compatriots, and the ensuing explosion and chaos had the trolls around Karkat howling. It only got louder as he started to pick off the last few, the executions brutal as he lost sense of where he was, reaching down inside of a bot and tearing out its circuitry, forcing another's neck into its spine. He tore off one's limbs, one by one, and let it struggle to get away from him before he finished it, leaving a trail of black oil that could have easily enough been blood, and grinning all the while until he looked up at Karkat, who seemed... Unsure of the situation.

It was hard to decide what he thought about all that. It sure was pretty impressive, and though he'd never had any doubts that Gamzee would make good on his promise to protect him, both lawfully and physically, this demonstration made Karkat doubly sure on that particular front, that no one n this ship could lay a hand on him without ending up like one of those dismembered robots. 

On the other hand, it wasn't all shits and giggles, his new protector had shown him that he could be gentle and sweet, and now he was clearly demonstrating that he could be a fucking serious killing machine. The contrast was jarring, it was hard to believe this was the same troll who had held him in his arms while he'd bawled like a wriggler, who had held his mind in his grip so gently, who had gotten his tongue up his nook in ways that made Karkat tingle at just the fleeting memory of it.

He came up, smelling a little of oil and sweat, his hair even messier than usual, but otherwise unchanged. From there, he could feel Karkat's mind more acutely - so he wasn't terrified of Gamzee. At least, not yet, not in a way that wasn't about capacity. "We got to do different things all the time. Practice different ways to take motherfuckers out. They're talking about getting some bred deathclaws up in here. Think you'd like seeing that show."

Karkat grinned at him from the other side of the railing, wanting to reach out and grab one of his horns while they were standing the same height, to plant a kiss on his face. He didn't, though, too concerned that caste-defiant behavior like that wouldn't really go over in an arena full of indigobloods, so he just waited until Gamzee came up and joined him. "Yeah, it'd make me damn grateful it wasn't my scrawny ass facing down a deathclaw. We don't get to pick our professions, but if I got the choice, I'm thinking I'd definitely not sign myself on for that." He thought about his childhood ambitions, about the threshing scythes he'd once had in his strife specibii, and sighed. He'd been an idiot to even dream about it.

"I don't know. They're intelligent, you might could charm one with that face of yours." Gamzee grinned back, falling easily back into his lovestricken expression as anything else. When someone made a gagging noise, an entire robot was picked up off the floor and chucked at them, resulting in another round of guffaws as Gamzee walked back up the stairs to rejoin Karkat, and another indigo was herded to take his place.

He scowled so that he wouldn't blush, but his eyes softened despite himself. "For your information I do have more going for me than just my searingly hot body and stunningly handsome visage." He muttered, sort of under his breath, not wanting anyone else to hear him casually mouthing back at his highblood mate.

"I know. You got courage and sass in spades. Still waiting to get to know the rest." Gamzee flirted back, absolutely besotted. It was a very good thing that there were explosions happening in the arena, because otherwise, they might have been a truly nauseating experience for the rest of the trolls in the room.

He pressed his mouth together hard to suppress the stupidly pleased grin that tried to betray him by beaming out of his face like a fucking spotlight on the solo musical number at the end of Act One of the some disgustingly sappy quadrant play. He shuffled a little closer to Gamzee instead to lean his shoulder back up against his arm, not wanting to be seen touching him without being touched, but wanting to be really close, close enough to feel the cool of his skin, to smell the sweat and machine oil, paint and incense smell of him.

It was all the permission that Gamzee needed to put his arms around Karkat, holding him close. It had only been a day, but it felt like forever since he'd met the little mutant. Like he was an unstoppable force, a part of him that couldn't - and wouldn't - be denied. He held Karkat until he was brought back for another round - this time with more specialized robots, sleeker in design and more sentient in their movements, though Gamzee destroyed them all the same. He barely realized, between fighting and flirting with Karkat, that the whole afternoon had passed, and that it was nearly time for the evening meal by the time they were through. "Fuck. Sorry brother. Must have been pan shattering boring for you."

"No," he argued, bumping his head into his arm a little. "I mean clearly they need to invent meaner robots before I'm going to be biting my claws even shorter on your behalf, but it was still pretty exciting. And besides it's not like I'm in any position to be sleepy with all these other indigoes around. It gave me a chance to check out the peerage. They're about what I thought, colorful and terror inducing." His stomach gurgled a little, and he grimaced, annoyed.

"Hungry?" Gamzee asked, and Karkat's stomach gurgled again in enthusiastic agreement as Karkat himself rolled his eyes. "Apparently. Come on, let's go shove some rations into our nutrition chutes."

It came to pass in a pleasant blur, Gamzee leading him back through the hallways and into his massive respite block. As before, there was a veritable banquet of food, which Karkat happily shoved into his face without a hint of hesitation or real table manners. Kanaya would be so proud of him. And speaking of Kanaya, he should really get on that conversation about clothes. He would, he resolved, after he took a post-mealtime nap. And maybe after he had convinced Gamzee to make good on his promise of applying Karkat's medigel with his tongue. 

 

GA: First Of All, How Dare You.

GA: I Have Been Worried Sick About You For The Past Few Days.

CG: FIRST OF ALL LISTEN HERE, PLEASE PREFACE WHATEVER GIANT GUILT VOYAGE THAT IS ABOUT TO DRIVEL OUT OF YOUR FUSSY MAW WITH THE UNDERSTANDING THAT I HAVE BEEN KNOCKED UP WITH LIKE TWO DOZEN EGGS THAT ARE ALL LITERALLY THE SIZE OF MY HEAD. STELLAR IDEA KAN, SEND THE RUNT OF THE LITTER TO GO FUCK AN ACTUAL MOUNTAIN OF HIGHBLOOD.

GA: They Wouldnt Let Me Send Anyone Else, You Know That. You Were Unproven And Frankly I Think It Was An Assasination Attempt On Many Trolls In Many Different Ways.On My Character At Least, On The Grand Highbloods Offspring At Most.

GA: In Any Case, You Should Have Pestered Me. You Know Its The Only Reason I Have One Of These Confounded Things.

CG: I KNOW I KNOW, AM I ALLOWED TO PULL YOUR FRONDS A LITTLE HERE? GIVE A GUY A BREAK, MY NOOK HAS BEEN WORKING OVERTIME TO GET BACK IN SHAPE TO SCALE THE MOUNTAIN AGAIN. HEALING IS HARD WORK, AND ALSO I HAVEN'T HAD A MINUTE TO PESTER YOU, BETWEEN PASSING THE FUCK OUT, ALTERNATING BETWEEN STUFFING MYSELF UNTIL I BURST AND HALF STARVING BETWEEN MEALS, STICKING TO GAMZEE LIKE SOMETHING HE STEPPED IN AND NOW CAN'T SCRAPE ENTIRELY OFF, I HAVEN'T HAD THE CHANCE.

CG: BUT IM PESTERING YOU NOW.

CG: YOU CAN REST ASSURED THAT THE ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT WAS A RESOUNDING FLOP

CG: AND THE DRONES AREN'T COMING FOR YOU EITHER

GA: Yes, I Had Gathered. Much As I Had Gathered That You Must Be In Prime Breeding Condition, Or Else They Would Have Sent For Another Breeder. And Possibly My Head On A Very Elegant Platter.

CG: ONLY THE BEST FOR YOU I'M SURE

GA: And Did You Say... Sticking To Him?

CG: YEAH

CG: I MEAN HE HASN'T LOCKED ME IN THE ROOM SO

GA: That Is... Unusual.

GA: The Grand Highblood Himself Usually Only Sees His Breeders Once, To Hear Tell.

CG: YOU KNOW I GET THE DISTINCT FEELING HE'S NOT LIKE OTHER INDIGOS. ACTUALLY HE'S NOT A LOT LIKE OTHER TROLLS, REALLY.

GA: ...Karkat.

GA: You Wouldnt Happen To Be Harboring

GA: Feelings

CG: IF I HADN'T WATCHED SO MANY SCHOOLFEEDS ABOUT MATING FONDNESS, I WOULD HAVE SAID HE WAS RED FOR ME AT FIRST SIGHT

GA: Oh Dear.

CG: WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, A FLAMING IMBICILE?

GA: Well. Not Without Reason, Im Sure.

CG: YOU THINK I WOULD FALL FOR THE DESCENDANT OF THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD? DO I HAVE A CULLING WISH?

GA: Do You?

CG: I MEAN YES HE'S ENORMOUS, HIS HORNS ARE LIKE THE SIZE OF MY ARM, AND HIS BULGE IS NEARLY THE SIZE OF MY ARM. YES HE'S BAFFLINGLY KIND, INTERESTING, AND ACCOMMODATING. YES I THINK ABOUT WANTING TO PAIL HIM AGAIN A LOT, DESPITE THE CURRENT STATE OF MY NOOK WHICH IS BY THE WAY SHREDDED INTO A MILLION PIECES LIKE I FUCKED A CHEESE GRATER.

GA: The Details Are, As I Have Reminded You So Many Times, Unnecessary.

CG: YEAH YEAH, TYPICAL THAT YOU ONLY WANT TO SEND US OFF AND NOT HAVE TO SUFFER VICARIOUSLY THROUGH REPORTS OF BEING SKEWERED WITH ENORMOUS HIGHBLOOD BULGE, SURE

CG: BY THE WAY, AND I KNOW THIS WILL PERK YOU RIGHT THE FUCK UP

CG: I NEED SOME NEW CLOTHES

GA: Do You Really.

GA: I Mean.

GA: I Would Be Happy To Oblige.

CG: I JUST KNOW YOU WOULD. I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NOW THAT THIS PARTICULAR DEEP AND ABIDING ITCH THAT YOU'VE BEEN LONGING TO DIG THOSE MANICURED CLAWS OF YOURS INTO IS FINALLY GETTING SCRATCHED

CG: YOU WIN OKAY, I CAN'T WEAR THIS STUPID ROBE, AND I CAN'T WEAR A TSHIRT AND HAVE HIGHBLOODS TAKE ME HALF SERIOUSLY

GA: You See Now The Truth Of What Ive Been Telling You For Sweeps.

GA: Though Im Still Not Entirely Sure This Is Karkat Vantas And Not A Very Cleverly Designed Bot To Replace Him.

GA: What Is The Meaning Of Love, Karkat?

CG: SHUT YOUR WINDHOLE, ITS NOT LIKE I NEVER KNEW I'D HAVE TO WEAR SOMETHING ELSE SOME DAY. I NEVER THOUGHT I'D LIVE LONG ENOUGH, SO WHY GIVE A SHIT IF YOU'RE JUST HAPPILY SHIPPING OFF TO BE CULLED? MIGHT AS WELL BE COMFORTABLE ON THE CHOPPING BLOCK.

CG: STAY ON THE TOPIC HERE

CG: THIS IS NO TIME TO BE REVISITING YOUR DRINKER NOVELS

GA: You Know, Youre Right. In The Event Theyve Managed To Build A Robot Who Types Exactly Like You, Im Happy To Assist Him With Sartorial Wonders.

CG: UGH. JUST NOTHING TOO PRISSY OKAY? I NEED TO FEEL LIKE MYSELF NOT LIKE SOME PREENED ASSHOLE

GA: Karkat, You Very Nearly Ate The Cravat I Made For You. Fussy Is Not Something You Do Well, Though I Would Argue The Term Rakish Is Far More Appropriate.

CG: AND NOTHING THAT SCREAMS 'LOOK AT ME IM A FUCKING BREEDING MACHINE' EITHER OKAY

CG: THE BAREFOOT AND ROBED THING IS GETTING REALLY REALLY OLD

GA: Well Im Glad That Worked Out In My Favour.

CG: I WOULD SHANK A FUCKING SUBJUGGULATOR FOR A PAIR OF SERVICEABLE BOOTS

GA: You May Have One Pair Of Slippers.

CG: UGHHHH YOU'RE A SHITTING FASHION FASCIST DID YOU KNOW THAT?

GA: I Did. I Will Have A Sash Made Up And A Metal Struck Any Day Now For My Tireless Enforcement Of The Sartorial Regime, Doubtless.

CG: IF YOU SEND ME OVER SOMETHING THAT'S MORE THAN 30% BULLSHIT I'M JUST GOING TO START WALKING AROUND STARK ASS NAKED

GA: I Merely Dont Want People Looking At You As Someone They Could Fight, Karkat.

CG: DON'T WORRY

CG: I THINK THERE'S ZERO CHANCE OF THAT HERE

GA: ...Youre Still Sticking With Slippers.

GA: But I Will Include Pants.

CG: TAKE YOUR SLIPPERS AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR WASTE CHUTE, I'LL JUST GO BAREFOOT.

CG: WHAT ABOUT SANDALS?

GA: That Depends Entirely On If You Plan To Lace Them Properly Or Let Them Trail Behind You Like Dirty, Dejected Starch Strings.

CG: OKAY ALL RIGHT FUCKING HELL

CG: I'LL TIE THEM IN A SHITTY BOW I SWEAR

GA: And Around Your Calves Instead Of Just Bunched Up At Your Ankles.

GA: Swear It To Me.

GA: On Your Horns.

CG: FUCK FUCK FUCK FINE YOU JABBERING HARPY

CG: AROUND MY STUPID CALVES

CG: MAYBE I WAS BETTER OFF WITH SLIPPERS

GA: That Decision Is Up To You, But I Will Demand Video Evidence Of Your Laces At Random Intervals. Facism Doesnt Rest Karkat.

CG: FINE ALL RIGHT I WAS PLANNING ON INFLICTING MY MUG ON YOU ANYWAY

CG: LISTEN

CG: THANKS

CG: I THINK I'VE ACTUALLY GOT SOME KIND OF SHOT IN HELL HERE OF MAKING IT OUT OF THIS ALIVE

GA: You Know Seeing Your Sparkling Visage Of Youth And Wonder Puts Collagen Back In My Own Face At A Rate That Can Frankly Be Called Alarming.

GA: And I Know, Karkat.

GA: Well Bring You Home.

CG: YEAH

CG: I GOTTA GO, I'LL PESTER YOU LATER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut coming up in Chapters 3 and 4, if that's what you're in this for X3


	3. The Highblood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat and Gamzee are summoned before GHB. Karkat deals with the aftermath of the encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 Tags:  
> Gamzee/GHB | Gamzee/Karkat  
> Makaracest | Mind Control | Dubcon | Violence | Blood | Aftercare | Pale Fisting | Penetrative Sex | Oral Sex | Quadrant Smearing

The nights had passed in a halcyon kind of haze for Gamzee. He could never remember feeling so content in his entire life, not even when he was so pumped up full of sopor and drugs and faygo that he barely knew how to breathe. Being with Karkat was easy, and it was fun, and the time they didn't spend together pailing was spent in each other's company, in activities or quiet moments or stolen kisses between battles and vespers. Karkat read a lot, and Gamzee would curl around him and serve as a resting cushion while Karkat read to him - porn, histories, fairytales. It was all the same, listening to his lover, nuzzled into his neck. 

He had gotten clothes from his minder back on planet. His favorites seemed to be a pair of baggy pants that tapered at the calf and an equally formless shirt, neither of which Gamzee particularly minded. It made him look soft, and like he should be touched, and those were impulses Gamzee was more than happy to be reminded of.

He didn't even ask him to change when they were both called before the Grand Highblood, in his private chambers. It was a place that Gamzee knew well enough, and while his own bile sac could never quite sit still around his ancestor, he tried to be reassuring, squeezing Karkat's hand before they entered into the room. "It will be alright. Every other motherfucker already loves you. His heart ain't made of no stone, little brother."

Karkat just nodded at this, chewing some more on the inside of his bottom lip, which was already shredded from more of the same on the long walk through the halls, knowing they were going to meet the Terror of the Church himself, in the flesh. Gamzee would protect him, he reminded himself aimlessly, for the millionth time. He'd lived this long in the Grand Highblood's graces, having some mutant breeder around wouldn't change that surely. 

So he steeled himself and followed Gamzee through the doors, using his own forward momentum to just plunge in, wiping his mind as blank as he could get it, dropping his hands down at his sides, trying to relax his tense shoulders and spine as he moved into the vast chambers, as colorful and strange and ominous as the rest of the ship.

The Grand Highblood's chambers were a world of literal smoke and mirrors - the incense that pervaded Gamzee's rooms was also here, the walls strung with mirrors, fitted with reflective instruments. Paper lanterns and colored glass jars and all other sorts of twinkling, brightly colored curio crisscrossed all over the ceiling on wires, nearly creating the effect that they were the ceiling, itself.

It could almost be described as fanciful, if the walls and floors were not also spattered with blood of nearly every hue, if the floor weren't littered with bones, painted in colors of blood that probably hadn't even belonged to them, or festooned with jewels, baubles. When they crossed the threshold of his antechamber, the carnage continued - piled ornately, in a throne, in the structure of his bed, as the support for shelves, oddly enough. There seemed to be more books than a warmblood would ever hope to even read the titles of over the course of a lifetime.

It all cultivated an image, Gamzee knew. But he knew that image was reality, too, and he pressed on Karkat's shoulder to motion the other should join him in kneeling before the Grand Highblood's presence, at the threshold of his door, not yet beckoned in to join him. He knew that his ancestor knew he was there, though - he felt the gaze slide over him, a cool knife down his spine.

Karkat was glad enough not to have to stand on his own two feet, and his pride definitely did not sting even a little at bending a knee to prostrate himself before the frankly overwhelming spectacle of the chambers, and the even more overwhelming knowledge of who occupied them. It had been stunning enough to find himself mated to the Grand Highblood's heir, chosen to bear his eggs, it was even more insane to be here in the actual living chambers of the GHB himself. He only hoped he didn't make a total fucking embarrassment of himself. Even slightly less than one hundred fucking percent of total embarrassment would be acceptable at this point.

The darkness always seemed total before he wanted to be seen; Gamzee knew this fact as much as he knew breathing, as much as he knew that stardust was in his little brother's veins and as much as he knew his name was Gamzee Makara. Then, there were two eyes, glowing so bright they seemed to burn into his own. His vision went purple, and then white, and he felt the tethers of his mind start to snap away, desperately as he tried to hold on. His hand was still on Karkat's shoulder, and yet- And yet-

"Just us, now." came the voice, like a growl, like a thousand and a thousand more trolls speaking at once, the whole of it pants-soilingly terrifying to experience.

Karkat's throat went try, his head buzzed like a thousand buzzbeasts were banging around inside of it, like white hot static, as his pusher kicked up to a near-panicked pace, thudding hard in his chest. His eyes widened, but he kept staring down at the floor, even as he felt Gamzee's grip against his shoulder slowly slacken, then go entirely limp and slide off. He managed to turn his head to stare as that arm just fell to Gamzee's side. He didn't dare look up at his face, he didn't want to see it slack and pliant, too. He didn't want to stare out into the darkness either, for fear of seeing, of being seen. He took a shaking breath, trying to hold himself the fuck together, trying to be pissed off that he'd manipulated Gamzee, instead of just scared shitless.

"You must be thinking well of yourself. Getting your visage all up and imposed on my descendant's pusher. Oh yes, boy, they say the elder Makara can LOOK IN TO YOUR PUSHER AND YOUR PAN as easy as breathing... And it's TRUE." 

Gamzee stood, one foot before the other, stumbling a moment, before he regained himself. He walked halfway into the shadows, or the shadows met him half way. Whatever it was, it ended in a massive set of claws across his face, a palm cradling his head that made even Gamzee seem small by comparison.

When Gamzee moved, Karkat found himself stumbling up to his feet too, like a puppet whose strings had been jerked. Only, there was no trace of chucklevoodoos. No invisible hand that was opening his mouth, yanking out the words that, to his utter bewilderment he heard himself growl, loud and clear: "Let go of him." 

What the actual fuck had he just done? He blanched pale from his forehead to his fingertips, a hard shiver of dread running through the core of him. After Gamzee had tried so diligently to keep him alive, this was what he fucking did? Great, amazing. 

Somehow, though, the terror wasn't winning. Staring at Gamzee, being handled like a disposable toy in those massive, shadowy hands, having him criticized for the incredible sweetness and decency he had in him made him /angry/, and beneath the fear that anger was shimmering like a hot coal, warming him back up from the overwhelming chill of fear that hung about him everywhere, enabling him to open his mouth and blurt out the most asinine thing he'd ever said, and that was counting against quite a lot of shit that had come out of his mouth over the years, a demand to none other than the Grand Highblood himself. Well on the bright side, that would either go down forever in his personal fucking history books, or be pretty badass last words.

"You know. The last troll who SAID THAT TO ME DIED IN FUCKING IRONS." the Grand Highblood offered back. The glowing eyes focused on Karkat, and the shadows around him seemed to recede just far enough to find the bare contours of him. He was almost entirely jet black, a true adult as there ever could be, indigo seams running through the chitin buildup here and there. His teeth were black, too, massive fangs that might have been longer than Karkat's hand, never mind how sharp they were. And yet, for all of this, for all the looming terror, he stopped where he saw Karkat, examining him, still and holding Gamzee's head in his massive hands.

He stared as the coalescing shadows thinned, and he had to adjust his gaze /up/ from where he'd originally estimated to meet that glowing purple stare. He swallowed, his pusher still hammering in his chest as he picked out the details. Fucking hells, he was /massive/ and old as globes, from the looks of his chitin. But Karkat knew that, he knew how old he was, more or less. Thousands of sweeps, and not exactly enfeebled by it either. 

"If you can read my thoughts then there's no point in self-censoring, is there?" He heard himself retort, amazed at how steady his voice sounded to his own ears. He was running hot and cold at the same time, frozen terror coiling in his guts, hot rage buzzing through his pan. At at the forefront, a singular imperative, to protect his mate. Maybe it was the hormones talking, but he felt like he had it in him to throw himself at the Highblood to fight tooth and claw for Gamzee, to use his own weak body as a buffer from harm, and if nothing else, to bet on the supposed sanctity of the eggs inside of him to protect them both. 

The world became stranger as the shadows receded, though it should have logically been the other way around. And yet, it was true - the Grand Highblood seemed at least twice the size of his descendant, who was already in his adult molt, even if it was a young adult. It was suddenly clear why Gamzee's rooms were so large - they were literally the smallest that would allow something of the Grand Highblood's size to move around somewhat comfortably.

His face was no stranger a sight, long and gaunt as Gamzee's but pitch black, the contours of his face and his fangs catching the light from his eyes, still glowing so bright that to see them was to feel their burn, like the blood inside one's veins crystallizing just for having looked. It was adorned with only grey paint to distinguish his chosen pattern, to mark him as belonging to the Messiahs. And how he seemed like one, himself, wicked and larger than imagination could bear, his own descendant dwarfed and caught entirely in his grasp.

"Come in to the light, boy. THERE'S NO USE IN HIDING /ANYTHING/." he said, the shadows around him seeming to shiver at his words.

Karkat's eyes widened and he had to bite into his own cheek to keep his fangs from chattering as the shadows writhed and shivered. But he stepped forward on sure feet anyway, shifting his gaze back down to Gamzee to encourage himself not to just turn and flee in the opposite direction as fast as he could. He was the reason they were both there. Gamzee was under attack for caring for him, for being kind and protecting him. He couldn't back down when he needed him to be strong. So he stepped forward, his strides halting but not stumbling, not trembling before the dark behemoth of a troll before him. 

When the flickering colorful lights fell onto him, he felt more exposed than if he had stripped off his clothes, bent over and spread his glutes. The weight of Gamzee's ancestors' gaze was searing, it stripped layers off of him, scoured him down to muscle and bone, reached in and touched parts of him that no one had any fucking business touching. But past the layers of stupid, instinctual terror was that rage that refused to burn out, the valiant and idiotic surety that he'd do everything in his power to protect Gamzee, loyal to the core of his being.

Everything went still, somehow - as if light and shadow both stood, suspended, simply for the stillness of the Grand Highblood. His vision was on Karkat. His hands twitched, flickered, and almost in slow motion he took a step forward. It was all he needed, really, to close the gap between them - enough to reach his arm out, to let one claw drag against Karkat's cheek. He couldn't even be breathing, the rest of him was so still, and his gaze glowed with an intensity that could make even a strong troll cry out for mercy. But it wasn't what he cared about. It wasn't what he was focused on. Karkat was incidental to the bright hue that spilled out across his fingertips.

The still was broken, a riot of chaotic bursts of brightly coloured light and dark shadows flickering and fleeing about, trying to contain what was happening or else step aside, a war as hopeless as trying to discern the inscrutable look on the Grand Highblood's face.

Karkat made a strangled noise when he felt the searing heat of that razor sharp claw dragging across his face. He staggered back a step, not from the pain, which was nearly incidental, but because his color had been spilled out, bold and plain, smeared against the tip of the Highblood's finger, falling in a haphazard splatter of small droplets to the floor. Searing red, a bold contrast to the lie of his lime-embroidered pants and shirt, and he pressed a hand up against his own cheek, as if that could hide it, as if that could undo the damage. "Don't hurt Gamzee, it's not his fault." He gasped out, as he staggered back another step, looking at Gamzee again for courage, seeing how completely and easily he'd been broken down, and wondering why the GHB hadn't done the same to him yet. Maybe he'd just wanted to toy with him first, he thought grimly. "I've got limeblood genetics, the eggs won't be affected." He spoke haltingly but with as much sparse dignity as he could scrape up, his other hand pressed across his abdomen as he took another step backwards.

The Grand Highblood blinked - once, twice. It was an action he wasn't much accustomed to, and even then only his inner eyelids extended for the gesture, the glowing behind them still highly visible, and somehow even more unsettling. He touched the claw to his mouth, vision falling back on Karkat as though seeing him anew. "It's /you." he breathed, all a rush that echoed quietly in the bone strewn room.

What the fucking hell did that mean? Karkat's bafflement overcame both his anger and his fear for a long moment. Maybe he was merely batfuck crazy? He was an old highblood after all, they were supposed to be kind of off their rockers as a rule. But he'd only been in his adult molt for a single sweep, and he was goddamned certain he would have remembered meeting the Grand Highblood before in his short life. His mouth gaped open a little, then snapped shut, as he straightened up, pulling his hand from his blood smeared cheek, and staring up at those unsettling violet eyes again, waiting for some kind of explanation.

 

The Highblood might have shivered, but his body wouldn't allow it, his muscles could not get their motherfucking understand on about it, they had forgotten. But he knew what he saw, and he knew what he remembered. "Time means little to me. Memories, less. The past has come and gone, from my own fucking PAN as much as from HISTORY." the Grand Highblood said. "But there's one motherfucker who can't be SCOURED from there. I REMEMBER HIM. I remember YOU. Did the messiahs send you back as a TORMENT, or a BLESSING?"

His gaze flicked to Gamzee, then around the room, as if there might be some clue there as to what the hell the Highblood was talking about, and more usefully, how the hell he was supposed to respond to that. Who was he, other than some cullbait limeblood with unfortunate blood? Some wiggler just past his adult molt, who had come into a run of incredible luck that seemed to be keeping him alive? Lucky to have Kanaya, who had lied for him, lucky to have Gamzee, who hadn't broken him, or rejected him because of his color. And now this? Apparently the Highblood had known some other sorry fucker in another life, some other mutant with his color. Did that mean he was going to live after all? Or did it mean he was going to die a lot more slowly and painfully than he'd been bracing himself for? In either case, he didn't have an answer to the query posed to him, he hoped it was rhetorical.

His hand came down, and gripped Karkat's chin, as he considered the same question himself. But it would be heresy to destroy him, and despite what whispers may have carried throughout the empire, there was no more devout troll than the Grand Highblood. He did as the Messiahs commanded, and clearly there was a sign being sent - for one that was culled, this one was to be spared. He was a second incarnation, and more, he was in the midst of bearing, a rite which not even the Grand Highblood could consider himself above. 

But it didn't stop him from lifting Karkat a little, until he had to strain on the tips of his toes to stand. And it didn't stop that gaze from boring right into his soul, or the Grand Highblood from smiling an awful smile. "I wonder if you'll bow for me THIS time..." he murmured, his presence curling forward, an awful pressure at the front of Karkat's head.

His eyes stayed open, wide and unblinking, staring dumbstruck as his spine cracked and popped, lifted so easily by his head onto his tiptoes. He really wanted to ask him what the hell he was rambling about, who his ancestor was. Someone important? Someone whose blood color history had forgotten, but had still been instrumental enough that the Grand Highblood remembered him? Someone who had successfully hidden their mutation? Karkat had been on the lookout his whole life for other powers that he'd hoped would manifest themselves along with his abnormal hemochroma. Most mutants got /something/ that made them less likely to be culled, something that made them more useful to make up for their deviation from the standard model. Maybe his ancestor had discovered those powers, and used them to keep himself alive? He was sort of dying to know, but he knew better than to ask. But, he thought, if bowing was all it was going to take to get him and Gamzee out of this room, his face was going to be planted on the floor in a hot minute.

It took him a moment to realize the pressure wasn't going anywhere. He could have pressed in harder, could have probably torn the boy's mind to shreds - but that could wait. It was interesting to know now - maybe that was all there had ever been to that whelp Kankri's defenses - his blood. Maybe it was a gift from the Messiahs. Either way, he let Karkat's feet hit the ground again, observing him, wondering what he would do.

He thought it over, after basking in the momentary relief of being set down solidly on his feet again, his neck muscles aching from being held in that awkward position. He was being given a second chance not to fuck this up, the way he had when he'd charged the fuck in and tried to order him around as if he was something more than an insignificant speck in the other troll's eyes, who just happened to be holding important cargo. Kneel, was it? Well, maybe if he made even a half assed attempt to get on his good side, Gamzee wouldn't be punished. Maybe he would even be allowed to stay with him, that was worth any amount of prostrating himself, he thought. So a moment later, he sank down onto one knee, then both knees, his fingertips resting against his kneecaps, his head tipped down, respectful, a bow that fit his presumed limeblood caste, not prostrate on his face like the lowest end of the spectrum would have, not on his feet and bent at the waist like a highblood would have been privileged to do.

"Always thought decorations should know how to be PRETTY." the Grand Highblood told him, with no small amount of amusement. So it would be difficult to control him from the inside, but not so much on the out. That was something, he thought, turning back to Gamzee, taking another step before running his claws along his descendant's body, a touch too familiar to pass for something devoid of meaning. For something so massive, he was so strangely quiet, his tread barely even making a sound as he rounded, inspected his boy. "I brought you here for a LESSON. Maybe that I should still TEACH."

With a great deal of effort, Karkat remembered his formal training, and kept his eyes glued to the ground, no matter how much his whole being twitched, wanting to look up, wanting to see what was happening to Gamzee. What he was doing to Gamzee. His conviction was still ready to rush in, but his logic had won out as soon as he'd bent the knee, had overwhelmingly reassured him that this was the best thing for everyone, for him to just know his fucking place, for once in his damned life, and not try to cause any more trouble.

"You think you've got my boy wrapped around your precious motherfuckin paw, don't you. DON'T YOU. And now we all know why... Should have smelled you a mile off. Should have felt the fire around your fucking HANDS." the Grand Highblood said. He slapped Gamzee, let his claws catch across his cheek, drawing so much more blood than even Karkat had spilt. But Gamzee only wavered before falling right back to where he had been, staring in the middle distance with a complete disregard for the pain. "But he ain't YOURS. And what's more, you ain't HIS, neither."

He flinched at the impact, hearing without seeing it, the smack of flesh against flesh, the scrape of claws tearing flesh, the soft patter of the blood droplets as they fell to the floor, the tangy smell of it in the air, overpowering his own. He clenched his fists hard against his knees, shoulders tensed, biting into his lip, forcing himself not to look until he was called on, staying bent submissively into the bow he'd assumed. More than that, he tried to accept it, he knew the Highblood was speaking the truth. He couldn't be Gamzee's, only the eggs inside of him were. He would be reassigned to another highblood, and then another, that was his life. That was his job. Until one of them took offense at his blood and he was reported and culled. He'd had some hope though, that Gamzee would work out some kind of get out of jail free pass for him, some sort of pardon for his mutation. As in, yes I'm a short mutant freak, but I was good enough to bear eggs for the heir of the Grand Highblood, so I should be good enough for you. 

But knowing it, and understanding it were different, some part of him was holding out hope that somehow he could just stay. He could bear a dozen clutches for Gamzee, then retire and live out his remaining sweeps on the ship with him. A stupid fairytale he told himself, but it was getting him through the nights.

"You can bring your motherfucking eyes to WITNESS, BOY." he said, though he didn't turn back to look at Karkat, merely offering him the excuse. And he wanted him to look, wanted him to see how easily Gamzee was trained to his thrall. His claws raked down the front of his descendant's body, marking him deeper, bleeding him. It would serve him right, later, having to treat them, having to lick at his wounds.

Karkat's head snapped up, the moment he was given leave, and he stared, sickened, as Gamzee stood there totally unflinching, face slack and empty as those black claws tore into his body, streams of purple blood running down his chest, soaking into his pants, pooling around his feet. It wasn't fair, he thought. Gamzee, who was so strong and fierce, shouldn't be stripped of his defenses, shouldn't be made to surrender himself so easily. He felt hot tears prick in his own eyes at his own stupid helplessness, kneeling there on the floor while his mate was ripped into.

The Grand Highblood's tongue unfurled from his mouth, a long and snaking thing, longer than Gamzee's by far, and twice as wicked looking, stuck through with massive studs of gold, somehow vicious instead of opulent. He lapped up some of the blood still spilling from Gamzee's cheek, the metabolism of any highblood too slow to clot so quickly. Gamzee's lids flickered with the movement, conscious of his own body's reactions but otherwise oblivious, unable to attach any rational thought. It wasn't as if he missed the effect this would have on Karkat; in fact, the Grand Highblood counted on it, soaked in his silent rage like the warm glow of a hearth as he sucked a mark against Gamzee's throat, something to utterly dwarf the various marks Karkat had left, himself.

He made a little noise, an enraged half-growl, half whine of protest as he watched the Highblood taste his mate. Watched him clamp his fanged maw around his throat and suck against it, obliterating his own marks that he'd been so pleased to discover on Gamzee's neck. His traitorous nook twitched, even as he despaired, even as he resented the monstrous troll who had his sweet Gamzee in his clutches, who was hurting him, knowing it would hurt Karkat, too. Basking in it, from the smug fucking look on his face. His hands gripped into his knees, blunted nails digging with bruising force into his own skin.

" You're excused." the Grand Highblood told him when he was done, when Gamzee's neck was a darker shade of purple than Karkat could have managed it. His hands were still on him though, still touching him - and not in an unfamiliar way, either. It was very clear that he was used to being close to Gamzee, that the claw running along the seam of his descendant's tunic was intending on ripping it apart. "Unless you'd like to get your MOTHERFUCKING OGLE ON."

Karkat slid up to his feet, slow as if lead were running through his veins instead of blood, unable to tear his eyes away as he backed up a few steps, both wanting, and really, really not wanting to see what was going to happen next. When his back hit the door, he finally turned, opened it, and ran. He ran through the tangle of hallways until he was back at Gamzee's chambers, out of breath and wheezing, tears stinging at his eyes. Weak, he thought to himself, coward. He should have stayed. But nothing could have made him go back there, now. He would just have to hope Gamzee would forgive him. Hope he came back in one piece, more or less.

He did. Eventually.

Gamzee was no stranger to what was happening to him. What happened in carnival was something more of a mystery, but it was no secret to him when Kurloz had used him for a more carnal purpose - his nook could tell the story if nothing else could. He was still bleeding as he came back to himself, his numb feet plodding in front of one another, posture stiff and straight as the aches all came back to him. By the time he rounded the door to his room, and crossed through the antechamber, he felt every inconvenience - his sore muscles, his torn nook, the blood sticking to his skin and matting his hair. He'd at least had the decency to make Gamzee do up his pants, Kurloz always did, but that was about where the mercies ended.

"Gamzee," Karkat said, his voice low and strained, as he jumped up from his seat at the sound of the door opening. He stepped towards his mate, slow, his eyes full of pity, reached out to touch him then stopped, not wanting to hurt him, not wanting to put his hand on some hurt or tear. "I'm sorry," he whispered, dropping his hand again, his pusher sinking. It was worse than he'd thought it would be, and this was only what he could see. Gamzee had been punished because of him, and he felt like the universe's biggest tool. He wanted to help, but he knew he'd be useless for anything other than smearing on medigel, if Gamzee even wanted his help doing that.

For some reason, Gamzee had forgotten Karkat would be there. Maybe it was because he'd taken this walk so many times before, was so used to coming back to lick his wounds in private. But then, he was used to doing almost everything in private; he didn't have friends, he had cohorts and brothers and sisters. When this happened, all there was to do was slap on medigel and shovel as much sopor into his mouth as he could get without puking, then diving into the rest of it. Maybe that was why it was difficult to look at Karkat, and his eyes found the floor instead. Maybe that was why he shrugged, ineffectually, feeling shame curl hot in his gut. "It happens." he said, blank as anything.

"It's not fair," he said, hotly, his voice still rough, his hands clenching to fists, brimming over with that helpless rage he'd been harboring for over an hour, waiting for Gamzee's return. "He has no right to do those things to you. That decrepit fucking monster. I wanted to force him to let you go." He took a taut breath then let it out in a rushed sigh, frowning. "It's fucked up. You shouldn't be punished for doing what's in your nature. He shouldn't try to take that from you." From us, he thought, but he stopped himself just in time.

He felt that shame twist hard again, making him sway a little, arms wrapping tighter against his own body. It was something defensive and self comforting both; he'd never talked to anybody else about it before, and how did he even explain something like that? He and his ancestor weren't quadranted, they just /were/, and it had been that way ever since he'd come out of his adolescent molts, since- "Weren't to punish you, little brother. Or he'd made you stay." Gamzee told him, voice sounding so well worn that a well placed jab in the air could tear the meaning of his words into nothing but fragments. "He did it - We've done it since the first night I up and met him."

"Gamzee.." He said again, and suddenly some things made more sense to him. Why he'd been so gentle, why he'd cared so much when he'd torn Karkat open that first time, why he'd reacted so violently and apologetically to it. He took both his hands and pried one of Gamzee's broad palms away from his own arms, rubbing his unmarked cheek against it, face drawn up into an expression of anguish, pity. He felt again that overwhelming need to protect him, and he stepped even closer, carefully prying his other arm up too and putting himself there instead, right up against Gamzee's body, wrapping both arms around his waist, ignoring the way his indigo blood started seeping into his own clothes.

"You ain't gettin your mind wrapped on it, little brother. You shouldn't up and…" He paused. "I…like it." He was choking on the words, they fucking hurt to say. But it was a complicated thing, it wasn't like Kurloz had just blanked his mind and taken him the first time. That had been a development, a development over nine hundred sweeps, and in all that time he had come to associate this specific occurrence with his ancestor, with the primary avenue of personal attention he got from anyone. Well, anyone who wasn't looking for favors or a fight. It was the only relationship he'd ever really had with anyone, aside from one-offs. He felt treacherous taking Karkat's pity for what it was, so fucking sweet and pure -

Karkat shook his head, and held him tighter. He could believe it was complicated, but he couldn't believe it was good. Not for Gamzee, who clearly wanted so badly to have something nice, something sweet, and he ended up with that instead. It couldn't even be a healthy blackrom, not when they were so unevenly matched. "I shouldn't what, Gamzee? Care about my mate? Shouldn't worry when he comes back to me bleeding and miserable?" He kept his grip on him, muttering into his torn tunic, cheek smushed against his bloodied chest. "It's too fucking late for that, you idiot. I already care. I care too damn much, more than I have even the faintest right to."

That was all it really took for Gamzee to cave; he had so little experience with genuine care that he had no defense to it, his head hadn't had time to bring up mutinous little whispers other than some very basic ones - that Karkat didn't really care, that he would leave. But then, he was right here, right now, caring, and it made those voices easy enough to ignore. Even if it stung, Gamzee curled over Karkat, bending down and pressing fervent kisses to his undamaged cheek, scenting him and rubbing at him.

He rubbed back, fiercely, then turned in and kissed the side of his mouth, sweet and desperate, reaching up to curl his fingers into his hair, to work his fingertips into his hornbeds. "Let me take care of you, you big moron." He muttered, affectionately. "And stop bending over like that, you're going to open your wounds more." Very reluctantly, he let go of his head so that Gamzee could straighten up, and he took his hand, leading him over to the resting platform. "Down," he insisted, firmly, and when Gamzee did, he disappeared for just a moment, only to come back with his arms full, a water basin and cloth, medigel, a medical stapler, and gauze. The cabinet was so well stocked that Karkat realized this must happen with alarming frequency. And also, he realized, Gamzee would have had no one to patch him up. He hadn't been explicitly told that Gamzee had never quadranted pale, or at least hadn't in a long time, but he didn't need to be told. He was starved for it.

Gamzee had been nude in front of Karkat plenty of times by now. But there was a difference in just seeing him and looking for something, and when Karkat looked now, the evidence was all there - the scars on Gamzee's body, the gouges and bites - they were almost all sized to what the Grand Highblood could do. Smaller wounds hadn't survived his molts, but there were still some small scars that would be erased with the next one - marks from staplers, and stitches, and in some places, soldering. The stitches were never even though, and the staples were at awkward, shaky angles; it was clear he'd done it himself, with the same supplies Karkat had taken from. But he tried not to focus on that, or the pain he was in at the moment. He only reached out to touch Karkat's side, his leg, as he wriggled close to Gamzee's body.

Karkat assembled the supplies where he could reach them, then scooted up onto his knees beside Gamzee on the mattress, his thigh lined up against his ribs. He smoothed his fingers over his face, down his jaw, gently, as his other hand dunked the washcloth into the basin. He wrung it out and returned to his face a moment later, dabbing gently at the bloodied claw marks raked through flesh and paint alike. He wiped the skin clean, carefully, watching the cuts bead blood again, but deciding they would clot on their own with the help of some medigel, and weren't deep enough for stitches or staples. Swaths of paint was cleaned off along with the blood, but only where the scratches were, he left the rest of the paint alone, knowing enough to know that it wasn't his place to mess with it. He carefully smeared the gel along the cuts, then moved down, wringing out the cloth again and inspecting his neck, chest, cleaning him carefully, tender with the edges of the claw and bite wounds.

Kurloz hadn't lain into him too deeply that night; usually the really nasty marks came after battle, if Gamzee had come back without any significant injuries. To keep him humble, he said; to remind him that the Messiahs were merciful to him, but that it did not exempt him from the suffering of all mortal things. Tonight they were shallow enough to heal in maybe a week or two - even if the discoloration might last a sweep. "You're like a motherfucking miracle, little brother." Gamzee told him, all tenderness. "I don't think I ever met anyone so sweet as you. Don't think they exist."

"Tch, yeah right. You're just stuck on a ship full of psychopaths." he protested almost automatically, but his pusher melted nonetheless, and as if to null his own words, he leaned down and pressed a very sweet kiss against Gamzee's jaw, another one against an unmarked spot on his shoulder, another at the center of his chest. He dipped his fingers back into the medigel and smeared it carefully along the cuts on his chest, the bite marks in his throat. The bleeding wouldn't staunch with just the seal of the gel, and with a little taut exhale, he picked up the medical stapler. One hand held the first gouged scratch closed, carefully lined up the flesh to match, grateful for once for his small hands, that made the task relatively easy, especially compared to Gamzee's big paws. He put in the staples quickly and efficiently, closing the long wound down his chest and moving to the next. When he was done, he got some wads of gauze and tape, and taped them down. When he was finished he'd wind linen strips around the whole thing to keep them from ripping off. 

Gingerly, he moved down to ease down the waistband of Gamzee's pants, pulling them off his long legs with a bit of effort. He bit his lip, frowning, and coating his fingers in gel again, reached down very gently to slide them against the edges of Gamzee's nook, knowing from recent experience what it must feel like.

It hurt like hell. It hurt worse because Gamzee knew that Kurloz didn't give a shit what it felt like later. The pain was supposed to be excruciating, and it was supposed to make him feel low, and those were things he'd never wanted for Karkat, had tried at every turn to avoid as best he could. But soon enough he felt it start to sink in, to numb the torn, sensitive folds of his nook. He was just grateful that Kurloz always made him empty himself, so there was no material to have to worry about flushing the medigel away.

He was very careful with the gel, working it into the first few inches of Gamzee's nook before his fingers sank deeper, to the knuckle, smoothing it up inside of him. Only when he felt those tense muscles start to numb and relax did he tuck his thumb and press in further. Gamzee's bulge was much thicker than his own fist and forearm, so it stood to reason to Karkat's mind that his nook would be built to stretch easily to at least that diameter. He slid his hand in, careful, tucked as compactly as he could get it, and slid his forearm up until he felt his fingertips brush against Gamzee's seedflap. He felt for tears, leaning down to rub his cheek against his bulge sympathetically, kissing the base of it, where it connected to his sheath, apparently not really useful for actually sheathing anything.

Karkat smiled, nuzzled against his bulge more, then dragged his mouth up to the tip, soft and hot and wet. "Don't be sorry," he murmured, his voice dropping to a tone that was much more red than pale, even as his fingers still stroked him so very tenderly, careful. "Maybe it'll help get your mind off of your nook?" He suggested, then sucked against the side of his bulge, tongue running slowly over a sensitive ridge.

Gamzee let out a little whimper, utterly conflicted; on the one hand, he was feeling a lot. On the other hand, Karkat continued to be distractingly beautiful, and those soft lips against his bulge were doing absolutely nothing for the indigo's self control. His fingers slid up Karkat's thigh a little more, squeezing it when Karkat's tongue hit a particularly sensitive little notch.

"It's okay, just relax. Let me take care of you," he murmured, very carefully sliding his hand back out of Gamzee's nook, wrapping it around the base of his bulge instead, dragging his mouth down the side of it again, licking and sucking a slow trail down the textures and details of it, exploring.

Karkat hadn't really dealt with him orally - that was usually Gamzee's forte, either eating out his nook or sucking down his slurry through that cute little bulge of his. That was when Karkat wasn't actively trying to force himself down another notch on Gamzee's bulge, something that he'd been trying to take slow. It felt as good as he remembered, and a little better, and Gamzee opened his thighs a little more, making plenty of room for Karkat to situate himself. It was... Odd, just giving over his control, but he tried, tried to keep his hand just moving over Karkat's body, petting him.

Karkat's free hand stroked Gamzee's thigh, before coming up to join the first, wrapped around his tentacle. He rubbed and squeezed and stroked at him, alternating between licking and sucking at the base of it while his hands played with the tip, and sliding his hands down to massage and stroke the base as he slid his mouth down and swallowed as much of it as his jaw could stretch around, lashes lowered against his flushed cheeks, making little low chirring noises in his throat that vibrated down the length of his lover's bulge.

"Ah... /Fuck/, Karkat..." Gamzee breathed, trying to get ahold of himself. But really, it felt so good, and he just wanted to get up and ravish Karkat, as shit as he knew it would feel to be aggravating his wounds. But this felt so good, and Karkat was so good, and it made him groan, deep in his chest. "I've gotta find a way to keep you here. I'm so motherfucking in love with you, I can't hardly stand it-"

Karkat went a little still, tongue swiping over him a little slower as he drew back, fixed his gaze up at him, still heated with flush passion, and under that, still high on the heartwrenchingly pale sentiments he'd been having just a moment ago. He squeezed his hands against his bulge and kissed the bony ridge of his hip, flushing as his eyelashes lowered. "I'm not going anywhere. They're going to have to separate us with a crowbar. I guess I have a death wish after all, because I'm motherfucking stupidly in love with you, too."

It made his head spin to even consider Karkat really felt that way about him. This could all be a job, something to walk away from with the endorsement of the Grand Highblood's descendant, as good as crowned nobility - and the only kind that mattered- as far as any land dweller was concerned. But here he was, so earnest and so hot and it was making his head spin all the faster to think of how perfect Karkat was, of just how much he loved him and in how many ways. He reached down, pulled Karkat up with him, knocking the basin of water off the bed so that he didn't have to worry about it. He kissed Karkat full, passionately.

"Mgghh, crffll mm yr stpls," he muttered into the kiss, but gave up on that a moment later in favor of just giving himself over to it, straddling his thighs around Gamzee's midsection, careful not to put too much weight on him as he leaned into the kiss. His hands found his hornbeds again, kneaded into them as their mouths locked, groaning and sucking on Gamzee's long tongue a little, dizzy with how much he wanted him. He got a grip on his horns, and carefully eased himself back, pulling Gamzee up onto his elbows so they could keep kissing as his hips rubbed back against Gamzee's bulge, wishing now that he'd been wearing that stupid robe so his pants wouldn't be frustratingly in the way.

Gamzee's bulge rubbed up against them anyhow, his bulge startlingly good at finding where Karkat's nook was through any kind of material. There were times when he assumed it must just be the force of attraction, because damn if he didn't feel his body ratchet up his need to pail about ten levels when he felt the heat of that little slit, ready for him. His bulge painted Karkat's trousers in genetic material, soaking it through, pressing in to the cleft of it, teasing and frustrated, both.

Karkat broke the kiss with a curse, rubbing his hips down, needy, against the coil of Gamzee's bulge. "Fuck, just rip them off, come on Gamzee, I need you inside of me right fucking now," He growled and pressed his mouth down against his again, his nook dripping and hot, not at all quenched by just the stroke of his bulge through the fabric, the cool wet slick of his material.

Gamzee sat up as quickly as he could without too much danger to his wounds, reaching forward and doing a little more than Karkat had said. He knew how much Karkat liked his pants, so he just pulled at his little lover's legs, lifting him a little with one arm around his waist so that he could pull the offending article off. He tossed them on the floor before pulling Karkat into another kiss, his bulge tip sliding against the heat of his nook as Gamzee lowered him back down, little by little. "You ain't got to mark my outsides. I got your name all up and fucking carved in my pusher."

Karkat leaned back down, knocking his head affectionately up under Gamzee's chin, then rubbing his cheek against his jaw, scenting him, groaning as the cool, slick tip of his bulge /finally/ slid up against and into his nook. "Yesss, oh," he keened, a low, clear sound. "You're the sweetest troll I know, did you know that you sappy fuck?" he murmured, and arched back to slide onto his bulge another inch, with a gasp and a hiss of pleasure. "Mmmghh Gamzee, yes, fuck, more, please, nnghh. One of these days I'm going to have all of you, just watch…" He'd been talking about his bulge, but after the words left his lips he realized, what the hell, he meant them in the abstract sense too. Not just pale, not just red, not just his mate. He wanted everything, and more.

"All of it is yours." Gamzee said, and he meant it, deeply - it didn't matter to him if Karkat had a million others, if he had quadrants so smeared and wrecked that not even he could make sense of them. It didn't matter, as long as Gamzee could be /his/, and Karkat wanted him. He groaned, deep, as his bulge sank into Karkat - they were over half way now, and only getting further and further every time, and it was driving him up the motherfucking wall, it was so good.

Karkat was incessantly fucking amazed at what he'd coaxed his body to be able to take. Maybe the hormones released from being laden with fertilized eggs were helping, too, but it was still goddamn impressive just how /much/ his nook gave. He'd gone from only being able to get a couple of his own fingers, or the width of his own bulge up his nook, to being able to stretch a little more than halfway down Gamzee's bulge. A little before halfway, Gamzee was already bumping up against his seedflap, and he needed to either press through or curl over on himself in order to work more of his bulge in, and both options were so fucking good. Feeling him flex and curl his bulge inside of him, or feeling the tip slide through his swollen seedflap, so deep inside of him, made his nook shiver and convulse, milking the girth of him reflexively.

There were times when Gamzee doubled back down, just let himself be a little wider, working against the already tight walls of Karkat's nook. But tonight it seemed he should be closer in some way, that there shouldn't be any kind of holding back. He let his bulge wriggle up past his seedflap, curling around only to stroke at the back of it, knowing it was so sensitive. It made Karkat's nook go haywire, which just made things better for his bulge, too. He didn't even need to move his hips, to focus on anything else - it wasn't going to take anything but what was happening naturally to get him to knot in no time, he knew. And besides, Karkat's lips were just as intoxicating, and Gamzee wanted to put all his focus on those.

Karkat groaned against Gamzee's mouth, then sealed his lips back over his, letting his tongue curl out and tangle with his, murmuring little encouraging noises against him, chirring deeply as he stilled his hips, letting that maddeningly pleasurable press and slide against and through his seedflap send hot shivers of sensation all through him. "You're so fucking good," he whispered against his lips, then leaned to kiss his jaw, to bite his ear, to lay a trail of kisses down his bruised, bitten throat, marking over the marks with invisible tenderness.

It was the kisses, more than absolutely anything else, that drove him mad. They were one of those parts of Karkat that seemed so alien to Gamzee at first, but that he absolutely responded to with an almost comedic sincerity. Karkat hadn't even reached the hollow in the base of his neck before he was all knotted up, and half dreamy besides, chirrs of appreciation pouring out of his mouth like he were some tiny wriggler, or some mewbeast being pet just right. His hands squeezed Karkat's hips, and he looked up at his lover with an expression that was so entirely soppy that even the reddest romcom would have shit itself in shame.

Karkat really would have given him at least a little hell for that, except he was too busy being caught in the throes of fucking ecstasy via his nook and seedflap, and all he could manage to do was moan his appreciation. When Gamzee squeezed his hips, he shifted, and the angle moved the pressure inside him just right, and a burst of heat and pleasure rolled through him. He nearly screamed as he came, the sound tapering off into a moan, then into a low chirr, his nook pulsing hard around Gamzee's bulge, clenched so tight that not even a drop of his own slurry came back out of him.

It was absolute bliss; Karkat's hot, tight little nook was amazing at the worst of times, but when he came it was an entirely different level. Not just due to the spasms, which were about to dismantle Gamzee on a molecular level, he was sure; the surge of slurry was mind blowing too, the pressure of it around him, somehow even hotter, dragging an orgasm out of him like it was intending to win this fight, lay the highblood so flat on his back he'd never get up. He ended up curled forward, holding Karkat tight, kissing him hard as he felt his slurry get sucked up into his lover's body, more fuel to the fire for their eggs.

He groaned and kissed him back, fevered, until the last of his slurry had poured into him, drawing his abdomen tight with the fullness of holding all of it, plus their eggs. He broke the kiss then, and slumped forward against Gamzee, exhausted and panting for breath, feeling more like a liquid than a solid, letting his eyes slide closed, content to do absolutely nothing at all for a minute or three.

Gamzee let him, more than content to let Karkat rest on top of him, narrowly avoiding the worst of his wounds. He was like a little heating pad, and even more, everything about Karkat made Gamzee feel safe, somehow. Secure. Like he could lie there and that was all they were, two lovers who were secure in each other's arms. It was a nice delusion, he thought, stroking Karkat's hair absently. "I really had my meaning up, you know." he told Karkat after a while.

"If you're attempting to communicate in your quaint juggalo butchering of the Alternian language that you meant what you said earlier, then, good. Because I meant what I said, too." He murmured, nuzzling into his neck and kissing him there again, light and sweet.

"Church uses the old tongue, motherfucker. Ain't us who got to butcherin' it." Gamzee said with a lazy smile, so damn /happy/. Who the fuck let this happen? Where were the damn imperial threshecutioners when one was way over the decent limit of how much love they were allowed to feel in one lifetime? "That new sound do give an awful pretty listen coming out of your mouth, though."

"Oh shove it up your chute," he muttered, tastefully graceful as always, and sucked another kiss into his neck. "Don't think I forgot about the rest of these wounds that need dressing, either. That pailing was just a break, okay? I'm not intending to let you sleep until they're all /properly/ cleaned, and bandaged in linen too.”

"Sopor'll take care of the rest of 'em." Gamzee told him, wanting to be lazy. Not that he would honestly deny Karkat much; he'd /eat/ the fucking medigel if the other really wanted him to, honestly. "Can't we just roll into that? And you can get them sweet digits into me tomorrow evening..."

Karkat sighed, "Your tough veteran subjuggulator just-a-fucking-flesh-wound routine is not going to impress me asshole. Let me at least look over them to make sure you don't need any more staples. Don't want to clog the sopor filter by bleeding out a couple of gallons of plasma. I think you're going to need that inside your meat sack." He shifted to sit up, easing himself back off of Gamzee's unknotted bulge with a groan, just a trickle of slurry slipping down the inside of his thighs, the two of theirs mixed to a sort of seadweller violet color.

It was beautiful. Everything about Karkat was beautiful, and Gamzee found it very difficult to deny him what he was determined to have. So he shifted and sat up and rolled so that Karkat could inspect to his heart's content. When he'd finally determined that, yes, Gamzee really was going to be okay, and yes, the sopor really would take care of the rest of it, Gamzee sat up, kissing Karkat again on his undamaged cheek. He noticed with some regret that the other had already spread medigel on it, but also that it had clotted so quickly it was starting to stitch back together just then. He grinned though. "Can I tempt a motherfucker to dream with me a little longer?"

"Anything you want," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Gamzee's neck, and sighing. "So long as I don't have to move." He nuzzled against him, wrapping his legs around his waist, loosely, feeling perfectly content.

It was a nice alternative, he thought; a compromise like that, he could make. It certainly beat the shit out of cramming sopor and pills down his throat for a week straight just to try to get out of his own head. But here was Karkat, literal medicine for the wound, and he was so grateful. So he made himself troll up and got his glutes to working, picking up his little lover and carrying him to the sopor pool, where he had every intention of holding him close until the next evening came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karkat/Sollux up next in Ch. 4. Excessive cursing, junk food, and nook eating ensues.


	4. The Data Engineer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bored with a monotonous schedule of pailing, eating, and sleeping, Karkat wanders into the lower decks of the ship. Cursing, junk food, and pheromone-fueled nook eating ensues as he makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 tags:  
> Karkat/Sollux | Karkat's Foul Vocabulary | Voyeurism | Oral Sex | Fisting | Pheromone Overload | Quadrant Smearing

Gamzee was healing up fairly well, which was to say at least he hadn't torn out any of the staples. Highbloods had ridiculously slow regeneration times, after all. Karkat fussed over him whenever he could, making sure to change his bandages and inspect him when they woke up at night, and before they submerged at dawn. And he also provided plenty of distraction with his nook, the best kind of medicine in Karkat's personal opinion. Besides, he was transforming into some kind of pail-eat-sleep-repeat monster, all of his drives up exponentially. His nook was constantly swollen and sensitive, and he found himself embarrassingly unable to keep his hands off of himself whenever he had substantial enough time alone, putting down his book every hour or so to jerk off in the trap, rinse, and try again to focus on something else other than his need to pail something. At least his mate was very willing to put out, and he took full advantage of that. 

Still, as gratifying as the routine was, stuffing himself full of food and bulge, cramming his head full of facts and stories from the books he read, oogling highbloods from a safe spot glued to Gamzee's side, or very near the railing on the arena, eventually he got bored. With Gamzee's blessing, he took off for the belly of the flagship one evening, after breakfast while his mate was off at vespers. He'd gotten bolder about walking around unaccompanied, after it had been proven time and time again that no one was going to mess with him, that he was marked property, protected by Gamzee, and existing on the ship with the Highblood's blessing. Of sorts.

The way that most of the indigoes talked about it - if they ever even acknowledged it was there - one would have thought that the belly of the ship was some sort of prison, or at the very least a landscape with all the appeal of the massive cube farms that most midbloods were expected to basically take up residence in upon adulthood, one tedious task after the next.

What it actually was was a series of neat compartments, not at all unlike the upper deck, if less strewn in random objects to clog up the hallways. But the doors were all numbered, and it was easy to find your way from one area to the next, if you knew what you were looking for. Or, if you didn't, there happened to be signs for different wings, noting a speciality - there was even a massive apiary, from the description of things, the glass window apparently cut in to one of the hives within, showing all the little neat hexagons, and all the purple bees as they flitted about through them, breeding and maintaining and dancing. It was a sign that Karkat was approaching the area that Gamzee had told him he might drop by - the lab of one of the mechanics he'd met, and his assigned partner.

Karkat stopped for awhile to watch the bees do their thing, moving from one window to another, examining the mechanics of the datahive. Eventually he came to a door, and glanced down at his hand where he'd scrawled the number he was supposed to be looking for. Sure enough, there it was, 2222, and really he felt stupid having written it down anyway, it was pretty easy to remember. He paused a moment, fidgeting, glancing down the hallway, listening for voices or the sounds of anyone moving around in there. Finally, he lifted his hand and knocked, hard and sharp, as if he knew what the fuck he was doing, and had any good reason to be there at all.

"Who the fuck even /knocks/. It better not be you jackasses from 5555 again, I told you I'm not lending you any more hive queens after what happened last - Oh." The doors had slid open, moved from inside, though the button on the outside would have done well enough. But really, Sollux had assumed that whoever was pounding on his door had meant to aggrieve his senses, so easily prone to headaches. This was. Well. Someone new. His scowl lessened, but only a little. "Who lost you down here?"

"For your fucking information, I'm not a drooling braindead bulgepuppet, I'm perfectly capable of losing myself at any given place, if that were in fact what was going on. Now let's start at the beginning before you opened your mouth to take a heaping shit of presumption all over my reasons for being here, and why don't you tell me who the hell you are? I was supposed to be bothering some sweaty robofondling blueblood." He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows a little, not actually offended much by the apiculturist's presumption, but also not about to be verbally one upped right out of the door.

"Ugh. What kind of pandead demon possessed you that you'd come looking for /Equius/? I work with him and I don't even look for him as a general rule. Besides, he got the fuck out of dodge to go on a date with- Ugh. It's not important, get in. The rest of these fuckheads might actually try to experiment on you if you hang out in the hallway too long." He said, stepping aside so Karkat could move in. Not that he much needed to, he was a wiry kind of guy - not so small as Karkat, but small enough that the cap of his blood was clear cut yellow, his frame only lending credence to the theory. The lab itself was bisected it seemed, a large line running through the whole of it, with one side in meticulous order and the other full of dripping hives and gamegrubs sprinkled around. "I'm Sollux. And that's with an 'S', before you decide to be an festering blister on my waste chute."

Karkat scowled a little, but unfolded his arms and got inside without having to be told twice. He figured that Sollux knew what he was talking about at least more than he knew jack shit about this part of this ship. "Fuck if I know, I was just complaining about only ever seeing an endless shit parade of garish face paint slathered on trolls that could cull me with the tip of their little finger. Not to blaspheme but I was going to projectile vomit a miraculous rainbow of Faygo if the next troll I saw other than my mate was another fucking indigo. So I guess you meet the requirement, and my bile sack can save it's eruption of disgust for some indefinite future date. I'm Karkat."

"I'm not opposed to an eruption, but make sure it lands on his side." Sollux snickered. "And trust me, if you had met EQ, the urge to vomit would have overwhelmed you. A torrent of epic proportions would have overtaken the lower decks, and all would be lost. A true tragedy to the empire."

He stared for a single beat of his pusher, than he laughed, a coarse but relieved little bark. He hadn't truly realized until this very moment how much he'd missed being around warmbloods, vulgar and friendly and practical. He loved Gamzee, but for all his surprising kindness there was still a cultural rift between them. "Yeah, I just fucking bet. I'll have to give Gamzee an earful about it when I get back upstairs. ..Is this whole thing your datahive?" He asked instead, changing the subject, having a feeling that if it were his datahive, Sollux would probably love nothing more than to ramble about it.

"Did you say Gamzee?" Sollux asked him. It was difficult to tell what his eyes were doing - less for his glasses than the fact that they had that mutant opacity, with no discernable pupil. But he didn't miss the swell of Karkat's stomach, and put two and two together with how he'd been talking before. He whistled, low. "Who did /you/ piss off? I mean, GZ is fine for all the idiot that he is, but /seriously/."

Karkat put a hand on his abdomen defensively. "What the fuck do you know about it? Not that I even need to explain myself, but we're a goddamn perfect match. I'm kind of a big deal, if it weren't eye-burningly obvious." He smirked a little, sharply, rolling his shoulders back and dropping his hand back down. His tunic hung loose enough that it mostly obscured the swelling, anyway, unless you were really looking for it.

Eggs didn't make huge bulges, not even the ridiculously big ones, which was what Karkat must have been carrying. But Sollux had been aboard the ship long enough that he knew the signs. Though, admittedly, usually they came along with dejected, haunted kind of looks and trolls desperate for the smallest amount of companionship. Karkat didn't seem too much that way. What a knob. "Wow, defensive much? Maybe you /should/ talk to EQ, I'm sure he'd be thrilled to study how you could replace the ships shield systems." Sollux sniped back, petty, but in the sociable way all lowbloods were expected to be with each other.

"Piss off and study your own fucking diseased nook. I'm just telling you the facts, if you can't handle them you're free to have your own little freakout party by yourself, because I am unofficially uninviting myself from your incredulity bash. So are you going to sit around twiddling your thumbs up your chute, or are you going to give me a tour? Either I'm the prettiest visitor you've had in this shithive block in sweeps, or you're a festering liar, so why am I not getting the full royal treatment here?" He was flirting before he realized he'd intended to, but once it was said and done, he didn't feel too shoddy about it either.

"Ehehehe I don't know, Aradia's new casing is pretty convincing. She was a looker when she was mortal." he replied, undercutting Karkat's own comment. He liked the egotistical look on the kid, though - it was cute. Not that he was going to say that out loud. "In any case, what's there to say? This is the lab, we make way too many fucking robots and almost all their software becomes my goddamn problem. When someone's not pestering me for a new datahive or to hack someone else. Pretty basic shit - or did they not put in a pan after they finished with that pretty mug of yours?"

"Ha fucking ha," he shot back, raising his eyebrows a little. "I did some hacking in my day. I mean who the fuck didn't, except pretentious asswipes headed for military careers or something. I mean I had nothing useful to do, might as well waste time with inconsequential shit, along with pretending I might somehow fake my way into a different career when I hit my adult molt." He peered over the line, at the piles of gleaming robot parts, labeled and organized. "Still, sounds like you've got it pretty cushy down here, from the way I heard belowdecks talked about, I thought it'd be like a fucking dungeon galley complete with rattling chains and whip cracks and the moans of the unfortunate suffering dirtbloods. But apparently they don't even care enough to make you clean your own floor."

"Please. The smart ones know we're too important to fuss at and the stupid ones are just terrified that if they come down here too often, they'll somehow get trapped... Aradia may have haunted some of them. But they deserved it." He reached out and mussed Karkat's hair, somehow unable to restrain the urge. "And ha fucking ha yourself, I bet you couldn't even code your way out of a wet paper bag. Not that you need to, with glutes like that. Pissing /limebloods/."

Karkat snapped his teeth at the offending hand set to muss up his hair, but he didn't exactly wind up to punch Sollux in the gut or anything, it was nice to be touched in a friendly way, even like that. "Yeah one can hope your hacker genius makes up for your own utter flatass wasteland. It's okay, we're not all gifted like I am, don't be too hard on yourself. In any case, I'm glad to hear the fucking murder clown brigade steers clear, I think I'll have to start spending more time down here. Kind of reminds me of home. Well, back on Alternia, anyway."

"Really? You mean to tell me you didn't lounge about on a pile of cushions all day, shoveling chocolate covered sugarbeetles into your gob and crying over romantic dramas? That's always what I pictured -" Sollux said, cutting himself short to laugh when Karkat swatted him in the ribs. They were bony, like the rest of them, probably hurt Karkat's hand more to do it than it hurt Sollux to be hit.

"Choke on a flaming turd," he scowled, sniffing. "There is objectively nothing wrong with liking romantic dramas, but I can assure you with absolute certainty that there was a vast and unfortunate lack of luxuries like chocolate covered sugarbeetles and cushionpiles in my wigglerhood hive. And I wasn't lounging around, I was sitting around shooting the shit on Trollian, as if you were doing anything different back then. Also ow, what the fuck is wrong with your torso." He shook out his hand a little, wincing.

"You mean other than the fact that my model comes with significantly less padding? Fucking /nothing/. Being stringy and boney prevents a host of unpleasant fucking fates, such as being a tasty option for someone's lusus, and also not inspiring an entire caste to be cooed over by jadebloods past our wrigglerhoods." Sollux snickered. Then, maybe just a little more kindly than he normally would have, he added, "I can kind of see the attraction, though. If I squint."

"Yeah right, squinting or not, I'm sure you're running so hot right now that your nook is slowly baking your pan to a flaky burnt crisp, which would definitely explain the asinine drivel you've been trying to fork into my sustenance hole. Besides, who's really buying this whole 'ghost matesprit' thing? Isn't that like the oldest ruse in the fucking ancient tome of stupid shit wigglers say so that their internet buddies find them more impressive than they actually are?"

"She's not my matesprit. I shudder to fucking say, AD is EQ's matesprit. She's /my/ moirail, which is the only damn reason I even consented to this godforsaken arrangement. But trust me when I say that I don't need /that/ to sound cool. I just objectively am." Sollux said with a grin. "Despite whatever hopes you may have about your apparent hotness, my braincase could be described as, dare I say it: ice cold."

"Whatever delusions help you sleep through the day, more power to you." He shot back, but found himself grinning too. "Probably the closest you get to cool is fondling robot bulge that you pulled from it's hiding place in the thermal hull, so you can wank yourself while you cry about your utter tragic repulsiveness in the concupiscent quadrant." He grinned wider, and leaned forward to bump his shoulder against Sollux's arm, just an excuse for more of that casual contact he seemed to disproportionately crave.

"Are you kidding? Because honestly, you promised you weren't going to vomit and yet here's an atrocious regurgitation of horrible noises that vaguely sound like you're attempting some kind of criticism of me. Which, trust me, being on this fucking ship is actually a blessing, my psionics were running low with how many babes I was having to foist off." Sollux replied, bumping his body a little more towards Karkat's, returning the elbow he got to his sides with a sharp little laugh. "Okay, maybe they were drones, but it's every troll's hatchright to rewrite their pantshittingly awful history, you know."

"All right fuckface, I'll cut you a deal. If you've got grub down here that doesn't taste like it's been dug out of the waist drainage trenches, and you're willing to let me shove it in my face, I'll pretend to believe your story about your insanely unlikely concupiscent prowess. What do you say?" He took this opportunity to flop himself down on Sollux's couch, propping his feet up on it and looking over at him expectantly.

"Please. Only the finest delicacies pass my tastebuds." Sollux told him, even though that was a fucking lie and he was surprised Karkat didn't have an immediate aneurism from hysteria. Aradia had a hard time forcing his maw open to chug protein shake half the time, and she was a fucking /robot/. But the other half of the time, he did manage on what might be called comfort foods - snacks from Alternia that he could occasionally get through a delicate network of other warmblood's in the ship. He tossed Karkat a bag of grubpuffs, the kind with that powdered Kraft grubsauce on them, the ones every kid on Alternia had stuffed their face to the point of illness with.

"Fuck, where did you get these??" He stared at a minute, then tore the bag open and crammed a handful into his mouth, chewing with an orgasmic groan and swallowing. "Messiahs be praised, processed Kraft grubsauce never tasted so sweet. All right you've earned a spot on the couch and my permission to blab on about yourself at length until your ego inflates your pan so much that it pops like a bloated pustule."

"Impossible. I evolved especially to hold a massive ego along with my intellect." Sollux shot back, flopping down on the couch. He let his legs sort of hang over Karkat's haphazardly, the casual contact maybe not something he was overly fond of, but... He liked it now. Karkat was warm, and soft, and he was finally glad to have someone other than the bug eyed creeps that roamed his hall to enjoy his snacks with. "And anyway, there's not much to say other than the fact that I'm objectively amazing. What's with all the deflection from you, huh?"

"I'm not deflecting, I'm merely humble. By necessity not choice, I assure you, if I were to truly expound upon the many ways in which I objectively rule, you might start have a breakdown and start crying, and then we're back to projectile vomiting on my part again. You should thank me for being so considerate. But if you're willing to take that risk, I guess you could ask me if you have any questions burning a hole in your digestion sac."

"No, clearly communication is not a two way intersection and I should, in fact, just stare at your beautiful visage as you cram grubpuffs down your throat so desperately you'd think they were a late term contraceptive." Sollux rolled his eyes.

"Well fuck you if you think I'm sharing after you handed me the whole bag. I haven't had these since I was shipped off planet." He sighed, chewed, and swallowed, licking grubsauce dust off of his lips and fingers. "At least you're admitting my aesthetic superiority. You should have seen me when I first got here, they polished my horns and pinched my goddamn cheeks and had me barefoot in this dumbfuck stupid robe that just screamed 'dumb breeder meat: insert bulge here'. At least I was able to get some pants." Now that he'd started talking, he realized there were some things he wanted to talk about with a sympathetic ear who wasn't Gamzee. Big things. Fucking colossal, terrifying black-carapaced things.

"Yeah, well. They hardly needed to go through the trouble. Though, that's pretty standard from all the ones I've ever met. At least he seems to like you. You should see what some of the Grand Highblood's look like. Don't say a word, they just kind of wander down the halls until you try to get their attention. And then they jump halfway out of their skins and take off down the hall like you're a thresecutioner, bound to take their glutes as a trophy." Sollux said.

Karkat sobered right up at that, gaze fixed on Sollux, forgetting to chew until he was done talking, then swallowing down his mouthful in a gulp. This was just the kind of info he desperately wanted to hear. And also sort of dreaded hearing. "How big are they? Those limebloods. I mean, you know. Compared to me."

He stopped picking at his nail beds to think a moment. "It's kinda been a while since I've seen one... Maybe a sweep or so? But I don't think many of 'em were much bigger than you. I was always kind of amazed any of them could walk after that, but by the time I saw them they were already full knocked up anyway, so maybe that was it. In any case, he never gets the same one twice. Not like I'll bet Gamzee'll try to swing with you."

Karkat blanched a little. He'd been really hoping that maybe somehow his stunted physique would work in his favor on this count, that it would be physically impossible to carry the Highblood's eggs. He was no fool. The myriads of fates that would be worse than a quick cull at his hands was very fucking apparent to him. This was the one he'd been mulling over the most. A way to stick it to him and Gamzee both in a single blow, and get something useful out of the mix in the meantime. A way to take what rightfully belonged to his descendent, reassert his ownership over everything that he owned. When he spoke again, his voice was low, as if he were concerned with being overheard, even here. "Have you ever seen him? The Highblood."

"I mean, not down here. In fact, I don't think I have in person, like... Ever. He's pretty private, as far as the rest of us goes. If you've seen him, I'm betting it's because you have a connection with Gamzee. And everyone knows /that's/ a whole whistling metal boiler of fish you don't want to get into." Sollux replied.

"Yeah, it's pretty much too fucking late for that. Count me as scaled, gutted, and tossed into the fryer." He grimaced. "About a week ago he called us both to his chambers. I nearly shit myself on the way there, and it just got worse and worse. He hurt Gamzee, and like a fucking tool, I yelled at him. But instead of culling me where I stood like a sane troll would have done at that kind of insult, apparently he thinks he fucking knows me from somewhere. Some ancient history bullshit."

Sollux frowned a little at that; there weren't many ways to respond, otherwise. But he shrugged. "What do you expect? Everybody knows he's fucking crazy. He's probably trying to take Gamzee to the same level. Fucking worked for him, right?"

"I guess," he muttered, morose. "Gamzee's been so gentle with me, I like him a lot. I wish there was some way I could help him, other than just being one more thing to get him in trouble with the GHB. But I just feel like anything I do will just make it more likely for him to separate us, or do something even worse. It just… it just pisses me off, feeling so helpless."

That... Was veering into some awfully pale territory, wasn't it? But on the other hand, he looked almost sweet, chin tucked to his neck, round face brooding over what was happening to his matesprit. Well, mate, Sollux guessed, but it was pretty obvious he had feelings beyond the professional kind. "I... Don't know. he does as he wants? We can't really stop that. But if you showed him up and lived to tell the tale, that's... Something, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He brooded a little more, then shook his head, as if trying to physically shake off those thoughts, snapping out of it a little and realizing that he was a filthy heathen who was probably stepping on the toes of Sollux's pale quadrant like a jerk. "Maybe I'll just bring a ladder next time, so I can at least have the mechanism with which to attempt to punch him in his smug, horrible face."

"Yeah. Good luck climbing it before he gets to you." Sollux snickered. He pressed his big toe to Karkat's cheek. "Maybe you could just bat that ocular fur of yours a couple times. I bet that works great."

Karkat slapped at his foot with a scowl. "As if I would sink that fucking low," he scoffed, but even as he said it he had a sinking feeling that Sollux would be right in the end, and that sooner or later he'd have to resort to that to save his own life, or Gamzee's, especially if he were planning on sticking around after their grubs hatched. He caught Sollux's foot by the ankle and held it in a vice grip in his lap, keeping him from pawing at his face with it.

"Hey, don't get crabby with me, you chitinous mouthful of bulge sheath. I'm just trying to lighten the mood." He told Karkat, sighing. Why were the cute ones always a pain? Or more, why did he find the ones who were a pain to be cute? Story of his fucking /life/. "Listen. You can't get strung up on the future around here. It's only bound to freak you out."

Karkat pinched the flesh web between his toes viciously, and grinned a little, carelessly. "Yeah, yeah. Spoken like a talented pissblood with a cushy job description. You were the one that wanted to talk about me, my life has two modes right now, freakishly sappy and perfect, and monstrously fucked up and terrifying."

"Yeah, well, as much as it may shock you to know, I spend a lot of my time actively praying that they don't show up at my lab one day and decide I'd be a swell battery instead. Why do you think I work three damn jobs on this ship, almost all the time-" he stopped himself, took a breath. Let it out. "Anyway. It's just how it is, here."

"That's exactly what I meant, genius." He sighed, and just let his hand rest on top of Sollux's foot. "Listen, thanks for the grub puffs." He shifted on the couch, and slid his hand off of Sollux's foot. "I should probably get back upstairs, even though I'm not really looking forward to it. " The truth was, it was getting harder and harder to focus on anything for more than about an hour before his nook interrupted whatever activity he was engaged in to demand attention.

"You don't..../Have/ to, I mean. I'm sorry if I pissed you off." Sollux said, a true stroke of rarity such that if Aradia or Equius had heard him apologize, they probably would have imploded. Their minds would become one with the void again, and also he'd finally have the whole lab to himself. But Karkat was a different matter, maybe the first troll he'd gotten to really talk to face to face who wasn't either a) a raging asshole named Equius Zahhak, b) a robotized moirail dating Equius Zahhak, or c) assigned to the planet of so much legislation that one pesterlog was enough to write him up as an enemy of the empire.

Karkat startled a little, true he'd only known Sollux for a hot minute, but even with what little of him he knew the apology seemed strikingly out of character. "Wow I guess you really are desperate." He quipped back, but it was a friendly jab as he settled back into the couch cushions with a huffed sigh. "I'm not pissed off at you. In fact, I'm fucking thrilled to have someone half intelligent and only about two feet taller than me instead of like five, with blood warmer than a fucking ice tub full of fresh faygos. And on top of that you fed me, who in their right mind would be pissed after a whole bag of processed grub puffs?" 

He shifted a little on the couch, sighed again, and then figured that ugly blunt honesty was just the easiest way to go about this. "Listen, it's me. My fucking nook starts driving me batfuck shitmaggots if I leave it alone for any fucking amount of time. I was trying to go make a graceful exit to jerk off in the trap until I passed out. By all means, if you've got a trap we can continue our conversation while I go at it, if you can talk and voyeuristically cream yourself at the same time."

"You know, I have a friend who would argue that the legalities on taking you up on that offer before you were fully warned that I might actually do it are sketchy at best." Sollux told him, his pusher hurting a little in the way it always did when he was talking about Terezi. "But personally, I am a lawless heathen beholden to no code but my own. So if you honestly want to avoid that scenario, I'd avoid hyperbole."

"If you're mistaking me for a troll with any vague notion of bodily shame, you must be blind and dumb both. And if you think I've got any fucking qualms about jerking it in front of another troll after being submitted to an entire sweep of breeding schoolfeeds and hands-on demonstrations where I got to casually fondle way more ovulation stalks than I ever wanted to in my entire life, then think again. But before you commit, you'd better be ready to wake up sweating in your sopor with a raging bulge aneurism for the next sweep or so, because I'm really that good."

"Psh. Please. Don't you know any psionic worth their salt never sleeps?" Sollux told him, though honestly, that was kind of something he'd never considered before. All he really knew about limebloods was that they kept them safe on some dinky little planet until it was time for some entitled jackass to contribute to the list of reasons that Sollux Captor contemplated leaving his body to become one with the void. But he wasn't a total asshole, he was at least already moving by the time Karkat was done with his boasts. The lab connected to a small respite block on either side, as well as an ablution block that the three of them usually shared. Well, for once, Aradia and Equius could deal with it. It wasn't as spectacular as Gamzee's, but it was serviceable, and not so cramped that there was no room for a proper trap. "I guess I never considered you got any kind of training other than how not to get culled."

"Most highbloods have never even seen their own ovipositors. I sure as fuck had never seen one before I was shipped off. I doubt you ever have either. Turns out there's a lot to know. How much fertilization affects the gestation length, what to expect from the eggs of different castes, how to actually lay the fucking things, even how to keep new hatched grubs in check long enough to not get picturesquely devoured by the thousands of needle sharp teeth that are stuck in the maws of the little terrors that just popped out of your nook. A lot changes with your own biology too. We learned about why limebloods were chosen to be breeders in the first place, and no it isn't because of the commonality of amazing glutes. Our incubation sacs are genetically sterile, our slurry doesn't mix with other colors, so whatever color gets put in, you get a whole batch of that. Not so for other castes." He followed Sollux into the bathroom, and settled his glutes down on the floor of the trap while he was talking, sliding the curtain mostly shut and shimmying out of his pants, throwing them unceremoniously out onto the floor.

"Yeah. That is a lot, I guess." Sollux said, sitting beside the trap, his back against the wall, not peeping in. Karkat probably considered the fucking behemoth on the upper deck to be his matesprit, Sollux reminded himself. Don't be a fucking /tool/ and get /jealous/, he said bracing his hands against his bent knees. "Kind of makes you wonder why they don't just clone everybody, you know?"

"There's probably some reason, but fuck if I know. Maybe the jadebloods have a secret labor union or something. Anyway I'm sure some idiot would find a way to mess that up for everyone. I say don't fix it if it ain't broke…mmgghh, fuck," he breathed out, relief rippling through him as he got his leg propped up and bent, and shoved his hand into his nook, not even bothering going in a couple fingers at a time, just jamming them all in there, up to his knuckles and twisting a little, feeling his nook throb and clench.

"Holy /shit/." Sollux hissed, blinking as if it would clear his mind somehow. The wave of pheromones in the air had gone from maybe a three to a thirteen, way the fuck off the scale. He thought he could /feel/ his pupils dilate, and he wasn't even particularly trying to engage. "What do they shoot you up with to do that. Fuck. I'm going to be smelling you for a /week/."

"See that's, nnghhh, what we learn in those schoolfeeds…it's partly a blood thing, ahh, and partly being knocked up…" He was breathing heavier as he worked his knuckles into himself too, fingertips stroking and rubbing roughly at the inner walls of his nook, head thrown back against the tiled wall of the trap, his hips twitching and rocking onto his own hand. Since the curtain was drawn, there was no harm in letting his bulge slide out either, a thick red stripe, coiling and rubbing around his own wrist. "Don't say I didn't warn you about this."

"Is this the big secret to limebloods supposedly having the miraculous ability to get along with everyone? You just waft your fucking pheromones into the open and... Nn..." He finally had to pull the zipper to his jumpsuit, his bulges making a mess inside of it already, frantically writhing. Karkat just smelled so /good/, and his body was reacting like it had been touched with some kind of fire, needy and needing. "Boom, you're in. Was what I was gonna say... Does it feel /hot/ in here to you?"

"I don't know, seems like we were getting along fine before my nook even came into the equation," he shot back, but a little distractedly. "Was that a zipper I heard? See I knew you wouldn't be able to resist." He teased, and then groaned, low and drawn out, as the tip of his bulge slid right along the palm of his hand, stretching out his nook even more, and letting his fingers squeeze down on it simultaneously.

"Oh, like you could fucking fault me. There isn't a goddamn troll /alive/ that could smell this and restrain themselves. Ah-!" He wasn't fingering himself, but it sure as hell didn't take his bulges long to figure out what they were going to do if they weren't getting any action. They twined around each other, reaching down and sinking into his nook as his head swam, trying to urge him to rip away the ablution trap curtain, to slide in to the trap and ravish Karkat. Who he'd only met a few minutes before, what kind of fucked up weirdness /was/ this, he thought.

Karkat wanted that too, fuck, he wanted it really bad. Someone else's bulge was always better than his own, even in combination with his hand, there was nothing quite like having another troll's bulge writhing deep inside of his nook. Besides, he bet Sollux was bigger than him, basically everyone was in the bulge department. Well, maybe he could fantasize. "Tell me what your bulge looks like." He demanded, "If I'm going to be providing the free airborne sex drugs, you can help out with some smutty repartee."

"Bulges." Sollux corrected him. "You'd know that if you weren't being so precious about all of this. But... Fuck, I don't know, I can barely think straight and you want me to talk to you about them? Well here: there are two, side by side, and no, they aren't any fucking smaller just because there are two of them, contrary to what so many seem to think when writing bad mutative fetish porn."

Karkat groaned, and thrust his bulge into himself a little more roughly, spreading his thighs wider and picturing what two separate bulges could do wreck his nook, it wouldn't matter if either of them, or both, was the same width as what he was used to, Sollux could just knot them together until they filled him up. "Mmmgh, the eyes and the horns… mutation, huh…. Me too…" he gasped out, deciding that this was as good a moment as any to have some friendly heart to heart confessions. "Rather not say what though. Not yet.."

"What, do I have two tell you my tongue is forked, too? Or do we have to get intimate before I can unlock your tragic backstory?" he half-laughed, something breathy and breathless altogether, because he had no control over what his body was doing now. "Not that I'd be opposed to that... I bet you taste /great/..."

"I'll take you up on that bet," He murmured, "If you promise to get your hand up my nook, too. And if you swear you're not going to flip the fuck out about my mutation. In fact, maybe you should just close your eyes or something. It's kind of fucking horrifying, your fragile mind might never be ready. "

"I'm dating a dead girl in a robot body designed by a troll who doesn't understand that the rest of the bluebloods enjoy hoofbeast art /ironically/. What I am not shocked by is frankly fucking sickening -" Sollux said, well on his way to getting the fuck inside the tub. He barely even blinked when he saw the slurry across Karkat's thighs, bright red, red as one of his eyes. "Analogous hemochrome. Cool. Now move your fucking hand." Sollux told him, not even stopping to consider why he might be freaked out. Pretty much any mutation was a cull wish, but he wasn't going to waste time on lamenting it, ever. Everything was a fucking cull wish. Right now, all he cared about was getting his tongue as far up Karkat's nook as it would go, his lips and the tip of his nose coated with Karkat's genetic material within two seconds of seeing him face to face again.

Karkat's eyes widened, and he didn't even have a clever retort as he pulled his hand and bulge free of his nook with a sloppy wet sucking sound. A second later, he nearly screamed, and managed just to moan instead as Sollux's tongue plunged into his nook. His hands curled into his hair, and his hips pressed up, grinding his nook against his mouth, panting for breath. "Fuck, fuck, fucking sweet shitting fuck that feels good," he breathed out, coaxing and encouraging him as his nook pulsed frantically around the slide of his tongue.

The twin tips of it seemed to move independently of each other, wriggling into separate folds, sensitizing him. His own bulges were absolutely /writhing/, he wanted so fucking bad, but he managed to be safe about it, working Karkat for a few seconds before slicking a finger in his slurry, pressing it in. He waited a little longer for another, and another, until he was obliged to pull his tongue back, his hand slowly forming a fist, rubbing his knuckles at the top of Karkat's nook. Sollux barely had time to lick some of the slurry off his lips before Karkat's bulge was trying to work its way to his mouth.

"Nghhh yes, fill my nook with your goddamn fist Sol, mmgh, deeper like you fucking mean it," He groaned, loud, his back arching and his nook pulsing around his wrist. His bulge had been thrashing against his cheek, sliding along his lips, and when he opened his mouth obligingly, it curled solicitously into it, rubbing and tangling against his tongue, stroking against his palate, the inside of his cheek. "Ahhh, shit, that's good…" His mind was going numb with pleasure, it did that more and more when he pailed these days. 

"Mm! Nn..." It was proper to deny that one enjoyed sucking other trolls off. But then, it was also getting Sollux wetter than a sea troll, so proper could fucking /stuff it/. He bent his head down as much as he could, making sure he got Karkat's bulge inside of his mouth - all of it, feeling the tip come back again and again to slide between the forks of his tongue, trying to wrap around one prong before the other started massaging it and it got confused. He only pulled back when he needed to breathe, and only then when it absolutely wasn't a fucking option not to. "You taste good." he said, grinning stupidly, as flushed as Karkat was.

Karkat's bulge was the perfect size for stuffing down Sollux's throat, a thick enough mouthful to stretch his jaw, especially doubled up, but not so large, or long, that he'd choke on it right off the bat. Karkat was chirring his appreciation, hands grasping into his hair, tugging at his horns, his hips rocking against his mouth, only letting up when Sollux pulled back to come up for air. "Fuck," he breathed out, nook fluttering hard against Sollux's fist. "I really want your hot mutant bulges in me. But you can't get any slurry past my seedflap, so I don't even know if it's worth it. I could get off like this, then bury my face in your nook instead, if you're up for that. Fuck, it's hard to think straight."

"Probably the smarter idea. You don't want those things to knot up inside you if it would be a bad ide-ah... Idea to spill. Excuse me." Sollux told him, before promptly latching his mouth back on to Karkat's writhing bulge, which had been distractingly nudging against his lips as he'd been talking. He sucked it down again, his fist kneading inside of Karkat, knuckles driving deep into some of the deeper little pockets of nerves.

"Yeah," he sighed out, morose for just a moment before Sollux's mouth slid back down onto his bulge and he gasped instead, his blunt nails raking over his scalp, fingers curling back into his hair as he thrust up into his throat with a loud groan, "Yes! Fuck.. ahhh, who taught you to guzzle bulge like that, hnnngh, screw hacking I think they've got you in the wrong profession…" Truth be told, Karkat's bulge was often kind of secondary to his nook getting what it wanted these days. He used to jerk off primarily with his bulge, but after he'd been knocked up, the ache from his nook was always stronger, more insistent, as long as it was being fucked it didn't really matter if his bulge was being touched or not. But both at the same time was good. Yeah, he'd take both.

Sollux wouldn't let himself purr or chirr at the compliment, but he did suck just a little more precisely, rocking his mouth against the root of Karkat's prick. It was nice to do it, for once, for someone who wasn't using it as just another way to get back at him, who thought it was debasing or something. And it was good, sucking down the slurry that dripped off his bulge while his fist felt the hot, slick inside of his nook. He groaned as Karkat pushed him down a little further, his mouth trying to adjust as he felt the mutant beneath him start to knot.

Karkat let his words dissolve into unintelligible noises of pleasure, not giving a shit whether that made Sollux smug or not, so long as he kept sucking and licking him like that, rubbing his fist up inside him so his knuckles bumped against the deepest spots in his nook. It only took a little while of that to have him knotting, and he gripped Sollux's horns as he did, groaning as he looked down to watch Sollux's jaw stretch around the much thicker knotted girth of him, feeling the sharp points of his teeth involuntarily dig in around the base of his bulge. "Fuck, too late to back out now. Hope you're as good at swallowing as you are at sucking." He breathed out, but held himself in check for just another moment before he let his slurry go, wanting to be sure Sollux wasn't panicking or having second thoughts before he drowned him with it.

It took about all of two seconds for Sollux to realize what Karkat was doing, and he used one hand - okay, and his psionics- to forcibly lift Karkat's hips up against his mouth even more. He wanted it, as much as he wanted the rest - and he made a pretty impressive progress with it. The gush of slurry was swallowed up, with only a little stream of it dribbling down his chin and into the trap, his hand caught in the spasms of Karkat's nook and taking the opportunity to rock into him even more deeply, to make him lose it as much as possible.

He really did scream then, a loud, nearly feral sounding cry of pleasure as his body shook with the force of the orgasm, urged along by the electric charge of psiionics against his skin, and the feeling of his knot being forced just that much deeper past Sollux's lips, into his throat, as it worked against him to swallow down the slurry that was spilling from him, hot and thick. His nook shuddered just as much, pulling and squeezing greedily around his fist as he pumped it into him. When he was finally spent, he groaned, and collapsed back limply, his hands sliding from Sollux's horns, his head falling back against the tiles of the trap with a dull little thud.

"Hahaha... Fuck, dude." Sollux snorted, glad he had taken off his glasses. He knew he must be a sight, his mouth and chin covered in slurry, the hand he was pulling out of Karkat's nook covered, too. He was on his hands and knees, and his suit was zipped all the way down his body, leaving his bulges squirming in the open air, the seat of his jumpsuit soaked through where his nook was. Yeah, he bet he looked every bit the warmblood calltoy that got assigned as 'relief crew' aboard some of the grosser noble's ships. But he also couldn't bring himself to care. "And for your information - I got off that duty assignment on disability. Turns out no ass is legitimate."

He let out a little snort of laughter at that, and roused himself from where he was slumped, wriggling to hook one arm around Sollux's neck, biting his ear as he reached down to wrap his hand around both of his bulges, stroking against them, shifting his hips to rub his swollen nook up against the base of them, slick and hot, just creating some friction, giving Sollux's bulges a taste of what it might be like to be inside of him. "That and you're about as sultry and/or coquettishly meek as a sack full of gravel."

"Hey, don't tell me some of those idiots couldn't do with a good, solid pailing. Maybe if they didn't keep sending up fuckers who are interested in acting like fainting lilies to get what they want, there'd be a little more sense in the empire." Sollux said, nipping at Karkat when his own ear was released. His bulges were playing along just nice though, the tips nestling and rubbing against the cleft of Karkat's nook, hot and sweet.

"Mm, some of them, yeah. And some of them have their heads so far up their highblooded nooks that they think the whole damn world should be genuinely awed and honored to worship their stupid bulges. That's where a breeder has the clear advantage, we only have to be polite that first time, then we can be as rude as we fucking want without getting culled, and blame it on the hormones." He smirked, that wasn't necessarily true, he knew, but it certainly was in some cases. And it had worked out the same for him, but for different reasons, namely that Gamzee was as sweet as sopor pie and thought he was adorable when he was being crass. Fucking serendipity.

"Pf... I don't think anybody could make you behave, no matter what profession." Sollux said, oddly sure of it despite the fact they'd only just met. Sometimes shit was just like that - as someone who heard dead people, it wasn't exactly like he could say it was the weirdest sensation he'd ever gotten in his life. He purred deep when Karkat's fingers massaged at the fork in his bulges, rubbed their jaws together, not giving a shit that he was rubbing Karkat's slurry onto him, too.

Karkat really didn't give a shit either as he rubbed back against him, licking a clean stripe into his cheek, buzzing with sexual satisfaction and pheromones, tingling pleasantly all over his body, and enjoying the way Sollux's bulges were writhing against his hand, the way that Sollux was purring. He pressed his own chest up against his to feel the vibration more. "That's fucking right," he murmured. "Just wait, in a dozen sweeps I'm going to be running this damn ship.."

"Maybe more. Gamzee ain't gonna off the Grand Highblood so easy." Sollux told him, but his voice was still light, clearly not meant as a jab. It was just that he could hear the screams of the doomed, and the Grand Highblood's voice would have been unmistakable within them. Slowly, his bulges started to knot, content to twist up against Karkat's fingers and pretend that was some kind of bulge, too. "But it's good to know you plan on staying, gotta come up with so-ah. Some way of keeping your bulge in proximity to my mouth."

"Screw waiting for Gamzee, I'll take him out myself," he grinned, squeezing his hand against Sollux as he started to knot. "It'll be worth it for the extra perks I discovered downstairs…" His fingers on his other hand twined into Sollux's hair again, and he sucked a mark onto his throat as he felt him knot the rest of the way, coaxing and rubbing his bulges, and sliding the slick outside of his nook up against them, too.

Sollux retorted with a very intelligent sounding moan, a singular kind of noise of pleasure as his slurry spilled, most all of it coming out of his bulge rather than splitting time with his nook. But that was alright. Fuck, that was more than alright, he thought, shivering as Karkat bit against the mark in his neck - just a light nip, but still enough to make him shiver with all that sensitivity he felt, right now.

Karkat hummed, pleased, as Sollux's hot slurry spilled all over his abdomen and thighs and nook, drenching him and running into the trap, and he milked his bulges through it, sucking and biting at his neck as he did, liking the way it made his breath hitch and his muscles shiver. "Not bad," he muttered, grinning against his neck, giddy.

"You mispronounced 'fucking awesome'." Sollux corrected him, finally giving up on his muscles and just suspending himself with psionics, letting a flicker hit Karkat's tongue or lips every couple seconds, just enough to prickle. Truth to it, it had been fucking awesome - Sollux had never actually had the chance to couple up with a goldblood, and limes were pretty goddamn close. The pheromone high was something he'd be feeling the whole night, he was sure of it.

"Mmmn, yeah whatever, if you expect me to be seriously impressed after just one round you've got another thought coming." He snickered, and wrapped his other arm around Sollux's neck, too, stroking his fingers along his spine, and the back of his neck, and up against his scalp.

"I'm ready to suffer in the name of my score." Sollux sniffed, though he couldn't really keep it up more than a second. He was feeling too giggly, and ridiculous, and that was fucking stupid because he never felt giggly OR ridiculous. "Seriously though, what the fuck do they feed you to make it like that, fucking hell..."

He just laughed, and wrapped his legs around Sollux's waist, as if trying to drag him down from where he was holding himself up with that crackling red and blue energy. "They don't fucking feed me enough, I'll tell you that. Ever since I got knocked up all I've been wanting to do is eat my own weight in sweets, pail, and nap. With occasional breaks to exercise my intellect before I decide that's a futile pursuit after all."

"Sounds to me like you need more snack breaks." Sollux told him, gently wafting down from up in the air. Because he chose to, completely, and not because he was influenced by wanting to be closer to Karkat in any way. Oddly, he was maybe lighter than Karkat - he had muscle, but not much, and lying down, their height difference didn't seem so much of a factor. Not that he was a comfortable cuddler, he was as knobbly jointed as any troll came. "I hear they come with great benefits."

"Yeah well we'll just see if you can keep up with the demand." He grinned, then scowled. "Fuck, you are like twenty thousand sticks tied together at right angles and weighed down with some cement blocks. Turn on the damn water. I promise I'll get all sappy and mushy and rub all up against you in a more vertical way."

"What, so you can use my ribs as a wash board?" Sollux joked, not unaware of how his body was constructed. Before Aradia had become robotic and it ceased to be an issue, she'd said that a lot, too. So had Terezi. So had Equius, but Equius could get pailed, Sollux thought, flicking on the trap faucets without even looking, bringing the water up so that it would be hot enough to relax both of their muscles, as if they needed it - scalding by the standards of just about anybody else aboard the ship.

Karkat was happy enough, despite his complaints, to stay prone for awhile, sluicing the water through Sollux's hair, letting it steam the air around them and wash away the slurry that they were both practically coated with. This was really, really fucking nice, and he couldn't believe Gamzee had recommended Equius to him, when clearly Sollux was where it was at for casual hangout with excellent snacks, not to mention the mutual masturbation and bulge sucking. He hoped Gamzee wouldn't be upset, but he knew that for a stupidly irrational fear, Gamzee had all but given him total free reign, he couldn't imagine him suddenly becoming possessive or angry with him.

Sollux had peeled himself out of his own suit, and helped Karkat out of his clothes, too - after all, it wasn't like he didn't own a drying unit, those came with every lab set up. Explosions and chemical leaks were not uncommon. But this was a much better reason to be using them, he thought, settling in, running his hands along Karkat's body, stroking him in the water. "Seriously though, if you don't come back I might have to hunt you down. And I'm allergic to anything outside my lab, just so you know. Deadly. My blood will be on your hands."

"Listen nookwipe it's not exactly uncommon to have a deadly allergy to being flattened to a smear on the hallway by a subjuggulator club. Don't come fucking looking for me, genius. Trust me, you're going to be seeing a lot more of my bulge in the very near future. Hell maybe I'll come down every day for lunch and a blowjob. They don't fucking serve lunch upstairs, can you believe that inane bullshit? How does any good religion only endorse two meals a day?"

"Yeah, well, it's part of their whole /thing/, really. They deploy in the middle of the night so that nobody pukes up their meal. If they want 'em meaner, they deploy them close to dinner." Sollux told him, kind of surprised at himself for remembering that little bit. But then, it was kind of his job to know about battle shit, considering he had to put a lot of thought into how to program the robots they sent up. "In any case, we don't have to follow that shit down here. Kraft food services has you covered. May not be sugar covered beetles every night, but it's pretty decent. Better than that swill they called meal rations on Alternia."

"Ugh, you can fucking say that again. All right, it's a deal. From the looks of you, you could use someone force feeding you lunch on the regular anyway, with a side of bulge for dessert if you polish off your plate." He grinned, and flicked at one of Sollux's ears. Then he thought a minute more, and added, "Sounds like you know a thing or two about how their battle stratagems work. From coding the robots?"

Sollux nipped at his fingers, but not near excitedly enough to bite any of them. He shrugged, thinking. "Yeah, I guess. There are different models that get made in different labs, but I'm almost exclusively the programmer. So every time someone has a fucking complaint about the bots, I get an earful about how much more intuitive they need to be. Bits and pieces that way, you know? But nobody ever bothers to give me actual battle plans, so it's like pulling teeth."

"Hmmm," he exhaled, thoughtfully. He hadn't expected to be so interested in how indigoes slaughtered their enemies, but he found that he was. He realized he'd been paying attention in the arena, watching how different individuals used their different physical and mental strengths to leverage against either overwhelming numbers, or robots built so solidly that they would sooner splinter a dozen clubs than slow down their attacks. "Is that how you met Gamzee?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. I pissed off one of his little cohorts when they came down here raising all kinds of hell and giving me a headache without adding anything useful to the conversation. Guy left, next thing I know, tall, dark, and grinning comes down. Scared the piss out of me until I realized he was definitely high, and definitely knew the value of keeping me alive." Sollux smirked. His lips brushed against Karkat's neck. "Out of all of those chucklefucks, I might be grudgingly grateful he's the one who's going to inherit shit."

"Yeah. He's really something. Either this whole damn operation's going to change, when he's in charge, or else it will find a way to change him." He frowned. "I hope it's the former and not the latter, even if I'm not around to see it. " He paused, an earlier subject elbowing into his thinkpan, unwelcomed. "As for GHB, I guess I'll just have to wait and see what plays out, and try not to shit myself too copiously in the meantime. As good as your advice was, though, I think I'll try to formulate some kind of strategy. Not bringing a ladder, that was a bad idea. Something real."

"Who said seduction isn't strategy? The church is full of holy fools." Sollux told him, rubbing his fingers into Karkat's shoulder as it started to tense, relaxing it forcibly. "In any case, I can't hear his voice. Or yours. So I guess it all works out somehow."

"I'm not sure Gamzee would be all too thrilled about that. And what do you mean, do you hear the voices of the about-to-be-irreversibly-fucked or something? Must be a fucking soundtrack to live by, considering where you live." He exhaled into the shoulder rubs, hoping this wasn't getting too pale and reminding himself to give a shit, though it was perhaps a little futile.

"Soon to be doomed is the actual bullshit phrasing, but yeah, basically. It's a nice little side effect of my mutation, is all we can figure. But I heard AD when she was about to kick it - the closer you are, the louder it would be. And I don't hear either of you. So... I guess that's a comfort, even if it's a cold one." he murmured. Honestly, trying not to be pale was exhausting, as exhausting as trying not to be /too/ red, or /too/ ashen, or /too/ pitch. What the fuck was even the point, he thought, resting his mouth against Karkat's curls. "Get it KK? Because he's an indigo-"

"Ha ha, your talent is only exceeded by your skill at puns. My nook is getting wet all over again over your masterful wordplay, oh Sollux, take me now, and tell me more clever puns while you do it." He retorted dryly, rolling his eyes, but smoothing his hands down Sollux's sides to rest at the bony juts of his hips, enjoying the way they were leaned together. "You know I'm starting to think I'm not very good at specific quadrants." He admitted suddenly, to Sollux. "Gamzee and I are a fucking mess of muddy pale-red, like you took two angry grubs, dipped them in those respective paint colors and let them try to eat each other. "

"Who came up with the fucking quadrants, anyway." Sollux groused, closing his eyes. One of his hands picked at Karkat's wet curls mildly, more gently preening him than anything else. It had been a long time since he'd been this close to anybody, really /talking/ about shit, anyway. He was sort of determined to enjoy it. "And why were the rest of us so shithive maggots that we agreed to it? Anyway, you're a limeblood fucking the Grand Highblood's get. I'm pretty sure whatever you want is cool with the Empire."

"Yeah. Will it be cool with your dead girlfriend though? I mean not to set the mood on fire and then douse it in a bucket of ice water, but. I have my heart set on Kraft lunches, and I don't want to get my ass kicked by a robot." He fucking hoped it was okay, though, because he was incredibly relaxed right now, and he couldn't imagine giving this up.

"I don't know. I don't know a lot about her anymore." he sighed, letting himself be depressed about it for exactly two seconds. After all, he'd spent so much time already worried about it, trying to explain to himself why the relationship was necessary. "She was dead before we even got on board. We pestered through trollian, and that was weird, and then she got a new body, and that was weirder, and she started dating fucking /Zahhak/, which I was pretty sure she'd rather eat her own bulge than do, but apparently I was wrong. So I don't know. I don't fucking know. But at least I'm still moving by the rule of twos." he joked, snorting.

"Sounds like a grandiose clusterfuck." He sympathized, rubbing his fingertips into Sollux's hornbeds, something he'd been trying to scold himself out of, but gave into anyway, wanting to help him relax as much as he was helping Karkat relax. "Maybe your priorities change after you're dead. I wouldn't know. Anyway I'm sure it'll work out. And if she's pissed then maybe you can have an angry pale heart to heart that ends up in paps and makeouts. At least that's how it happens in the movies."

"Yeah, but the yellowblood psionic never gets to eat out the cute limeblood in those. Like, ever. I might prefer reality, for once." Sollux said. The fingers in his hornbeds were making him very agreeable to it, anyway, horns giving off little sparks from the tingling pleasure of it. They weren't painful, weren't meant to hurt, just involuntary little gestures. "And the actors are never as hot, you know."

"Hah, you're right about that. Though the cute limeblood was never a fucking anomalous mutant either." Karkat was overcome by a singularly stupid, but irresistible urge, and he tugged Sollux closer by his head, and pressed his mouth against the base of one of his horns, groaning as the psiionic sparks made his teeth ache and his tongue tingle in a way that was weird but definitely not unpleasant.

"Hehe... Nah. And their asses were never /quite/ as good, I have to say. Like that? I can do it to your the next time you come down for a meal and feel." He grinned, letting his hands cradle Karkat's head. Sparks moved between them, a gentle current, running through the ends of the damp curls, across his scalp. It was a singular feeling, like nothing else, and Sollux knew it.

"Hnnnnngh, fuck, why is it that the only perk I got with my mutation was to be sexually irresistible to everyone I meet. Goddamn lame is what that is. Where's my telepathy or mystical scrying bullshit? Mmm, yeah, whatever this is is definitely written in the stars for next time, when your tongue is back up my nook."

"Trust me, the irresistibility is a lot better as far as the cut of it fucking goes. Imagine screaming at the top of your lungs, multiplied by like... Ten hundred thousand million, all the time. And I'm not even being dramatic. I am undramatic as a brownblood here." Sollux said. "Consider it a date."

"Yeah, okay, point taken." He went back to rubbing into Sollux's hornbeds, pleasantly, closing his eyes to enjoy the sensations of the psiionics against his own scalp, tingling down his spine. Yeah this was definitely fucking pale now, but if Sollux didn't mind, neither did he.


	5. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Highblood calls on Karkat after his grubs are delivered, and Karkat agrees to a hard bargain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for Chapter 5:  
> Karkat/GHB | Karat/Gamzee | Oviposition | Egg Laying | Troll Anatomy | Forced Mind Control | Oral Sex | Consensual Sex | Violence | Blood | Size Difference

His life was perfectly fucking idylic. Which was passing strange for the fact that he was a mutant limeblood breeder on a ship chock full of violent indigo murder clowns. His days and weeks had taken on a very agreeable routine. Every day he slept curled in Gamzee's arms in the sopor, every evening after breakfast, and before vespers, they pailed hard and enthusiastically, enough to wear Karkat out for the next few hours, which he spent lounging around like a fucking heiress, doing research, reading books. By the time his nook had recovered and was throbbing for more, it was lunch time, and he made his way belowdecks to Sollux. He'd become a familiar fixture for Aradia and Equius, neither of whom batted an eyelash to see him now, sprawled over the couch stuffing his face, or stumbling on his way out again, reeking of slurry and pheromones, his clothes damp and rumpled. 

In the late evenings he went with Gamzee to the arena, or wherever else Gamzee was required to be, behaving himself, mostly, keeping close by, and paying attention. But making sure to look like he was just some pretty idiot breeder staring aimlessly around, not like he was taking notes or anything. Just in case. 

The Highblood called on Gamzee several times, and he fretted over him and cleaned and kissed his wounds, something he never got tired of, but wished would happen less frequently, for Gamzee's sake. Karkat himself hadn't been called back again yet, and he had markedly mixed feelings about that, a sense of foreboding about what was coming. 

The perigees passed by, and towards the very end he was so swollen and iritably and constantly horny that he had to skip most of the things he'd been doing, the reading and following Gamzee around. He spent most of the night at Sollux's, towards the end, bitching about things and fucking in turns, and even recruited Equius's help for some robotic enhanced concupiscent toys when Sollux was too busy with /actually important/ things to babysit his needy nook.

Finally, it was time, and Gamzee held him through it all so very tenderly in the trap, filled with cool water, the right temperature for his eggs, as Karkat shivered and screamed and convulsed and bled. All of the eggs were whole and healthy, bigger coming out than they were going in. Karkat felt the strangest sense of attachment to them, as if he were their lusus, but more. They had lived inside of him, after all. He stayed in the trap, sleepless, all day until they hatched, and even exhausted and lightheaded from blood loss, even a little doped up on the painkillers that Gamzee had brought him, he was able to remember those lessons on grub wrangling and papping, and managed to get them all pacified before they eviscerated and ate each other, or bit a couple of fingers off of him. 

They were fed, and finally transferred out of the trap and into a pile in the corner to doze. It would be Karkat's job to watch them for the next couple of days, until the jadeblood en route upon receiving news that he was in labor made it to the ship to collect them from him, to take care of them until they were of age to return, or transport them back to Alternia, Karkat hadn't been told which. 

He desperately wanted to crawl into the sopor, but Gamzee had not been excused from his duties that day, newhatched grubs or no, and Karkat didn't want to be so heavily unconscious that he wouldn't stir if one of them were in distress. So he just curled up on the floor next to the grubs, sleeping peacefully on their pile, and dozed, exhausted.

Gamzee tried to come back as frequently as he could, but truth be told, he was expected to be doing all of the nightly training activities that were technically optional - the eyes of the church were ever upon him, and now more than ever he felt it crucial to exceed expectations. So he grit his teeth and made it through his nights, sneaking a few minutes here or there. He'd enlisted the help of Equius and Sollux and Aradia, too, and some of the more competent carpacians, to bring Karkat snacks throughout the night and make sure he was alright. When evening came, Gamzee was always with him, curling up by his side and soothing Karkat's woes from the day while the grublings all fell asleep with a small dose of sopor. 

There had been this kind of fantasy in his head brewing that the grubs would stay - primarily because Gamzee didn't realize that it was a fantasy at all. He thought, for some reason, that he would be allowed to raise them, or at least to be by them. It was rude shock to be fetched one day in the middle of his fight in the arena to be told his grubs were being shipped off. That some jadeblood had come to take them, and Karkat too. 

The grubs were there with the jadeblood when he tore off for his room.

Karkat was not.

*

Karkat had a sinking feeling he knew where he was being taken, even if he didn't recognize the route he was being half dragged along. It was hours yet before Gamzee finished his nightly duties, and Karkat had been napping with the grubs, when two big, nasty looking indigoes had barged in and plucked him up by his armpits roughly, without even bothering to bark any commands at him, just dragging him out as he stumbled to try to keep up with their long strides, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. He hadn't been getting much sleep, not uninterrupted, deep sleep anyway, he'd been taking a light dose of sopor via capsules and staying with the grubs, who still needed pretty constant surveillance at this age, when their aggressive eat or be eaten, dominate or die instincts were still so strong. 

Sure enough, there were those heavy carved and painted doors, the masses of candles in the hallway, the smell of potent incense and blood even stronger in the air. One of his gracious escorts knocked, then opened the door and threw him in, like a scrap of meat into a manebeast den, pulling the doors behind him with a heavy thud, leaving him to flickering darkness, with a deep seated dread. As before, the Highblood was nowhere to be seen, but it was impossible to assume the room was empty, so laden as it was with a looming feeling of… something. Something predatory, waiting, watching him. He sank slowly back down to his knees, assuming the bow he'd made before, bracing himself to beg for his life, to swallow his anger and indignation, to digest any humiliation that would keep him by Gamzee's side.

"The jadeblood comes for your grubs tonight. For /you/. You've served your purpose here." came the voice, that unmistakable, unshakable sound of a thousand different voices talking at once, of untold horrors waiting close by. It was impossible to know where it was coming from, though - the same way he'd learned to scatter shadows, he'd learned to scatter sound, deadly as the most vicious laughsassin. Which he was, so it was quite fitting that the analogy stood up to him.

Outrage bubbled up in him, a sudden vicious urge to proclaim how unfair it was, how much he deserved to stay. He wanted to leap up to his feet and detail every reason why Gamzee needed him, every way in which he'd been the first and only true salve Gamzee had ever had for the thousands of wounds inflicted on him over the sweeps. 

But he didn't. Karkat had been waiting and preparing for this moment for a long time, and he was determined not to make the same wriggler mistakes he'd made the first time he'd been brought before the Highblood. Instead of retorting, instead of arguing with the supposed inevitability that had just been laid before him, he was silent as he knelt. He needed to wait for an opening, he needed to wait until the Highblood showed his hand.

After all, if he were going back with the jadebloods, why was he here?

There was silence in the room for a while, letting the statement marinate in Karkat's mind. Testing his patience. The energy he could feel watching him was always moving, stronger this way and then that, as if it wouldn't stay still. As if it couldn't. The Grand Highblood spoke again: "It's customary to give a gift at the end of the rite, successfully observed. Bad karma not to bring a gift to the host."

Karkat could feel his pusher beat faster, anxiety ratcheting up as he waited, at the Highblood's mercies, whatever mercy he could be said to have. Only practicality was keeping Karkat alive now, the fact that he was still useful to the empire. And apparently related to some long dead memory, one that was important enough that the tides of time hadn't scoured it clean from his brain. He swallowed, and again said nothing, he hadn't been asked a question, after all, and he bit into the inside of his bottom lip, reminding himself to breathe normally, reminding himself to be patient, to wait for the right moment, for whatever minute advantage he could scrape together, whatever bargaining chip he could dream up.

It was supposed to be Gamzee bringing the gift, but he supposed no one had told him. More specifically, the Grand Highblood hadn’t told him, otherwise he was certain Gamzee would have done something as ridiculously sweet and extravagant as he could get away with.

"Your particular gift was given no small amount of consideration, little sufferer." he said, a term he knew would hold no significance to him now. It would, soon enough, but not now. Now, all he did was glare at the floor, trying to train his eyes not to dart around, to try to see where the Grand Highblood was lurking. "I could send you home weighted down with so many jewels you could hardly walk. I could give you enough gold that you would never want for anything. But I think there's something more precious to you than that. Isn't there?"

"Yes," he breathed out quiet and tense, though the sound carried clearly in the vast, echoing room, into the silence and shadows, writhing with dark energies. He dared not let his hopes rise, that was a baited trap if he ever fucking saw one. He refused to be baited, he refused to be trapped, all he could control in this moment were his own reactions, it was all the insignificant power he had to wield, though he'd really, really hoped that somehow some really deadly mutant powers would suddenly emerge in the time before he saw the Highblood again. But for now, he had to work with what he had.

"Are you not going to tell me what it is, little one? Come, this is no time to be SHY. I'm motherfucking ASKING YOU." the Grand Highblood told him, though he already knew what it would be. Of course he knew - everyone on ship who had seen him had witnessed how attached to Gamzee he was, and how Gamzee adored him right back. But this was a different game, and he wanted Karkat to name the spoils.

Well, it was time. He squared his shoulders, took a slow breath in and raised his eyes up to the writhing shadows. More than gold, more than comforts, more than the whole damn empire on the plate, he desperately wanted it. No matter how sick of faygo-sticky hallways or sneering indigobloods he was. "I want to stay here on this ship. I want to be Gamzee's breeder, his assigned mate in sacred service to the church, for the rest of my life, or until I can no longer bear." Anything more than that was impossible, officially, he knew. He would never wear Gamzee's ring, he could never be seen as his equal, not the way things stood. But this small thing, exclusivity in his usefulness, wasn't so much to ask. It was certainly within the Highblood's power to grant.

"Now isn't that sweet. But you see, little heartstitch, there are RULES. A motherfucking LAW unto this heretical empire, separate from that of our mirthful motherfuckin messiahs, who grant free will to those bold enough to TAKE IT." And he knew the law; he knew it like he knew /her/, like dragonfire across his gill slits. He knew breeding law from bitter experience too, hard fucking written in his pan - don't you ever love a breeder, cause they ain't fucking YOURS, don't you ever love a limeblood because they're LIARS AND WHORES. "You can't be assigned to one troll, particular. The ship's big enough... But that leaves you at the mercy of the captain, don't it?"

And then there it was, sure as fucking clockwork, the legal-logical solution to his request. He didn't want anyone but Gamzee, but he was willing to compromise if it meant he would spend every night wrapped around him in the sopor. Even if it meant he'd only see him once or twice every week, or even every perigee. And there was Sollux and Aradia and Equius, too, who were all his friends, he couldn't imagine only ever speaking to them on pesterchum for the rest of his life, couldn't imagine being shipped off to a whole different ship, then another and another making friends that he would just lose, and facing the possibility of being culled for his color with every new troll he came across. 

On the other hand, though he didn't say this out loud, he was full and fucking ready to live by the laws of the messiahs and be bold enough to take what he wanted. However long that took. The boldness was there, the hot rage and determination, maybe the physical means to that end would somehow catch up through sheer willpower. "You are the law unto your own ship, Highblood." He agreed, his voice low and even.

There you are, he thought to himself, resisting the urge to reach out, to take Karkat by the jaw and shake him until all the rest of /His/ words came out. There you are, he thought, and there He was, boiling rebellion bathed in red. Empirical red, they'd called it, after His blood had been spilled, after the rebels switched their grey rebellion for red mourning, and Meenah had made it a fashion statement for the rest of the empire to cut back at them. There was fire, and there were those poison-sweet words. He laughed, a sound that shook the room, made the shadows shift and shiver, hard. "That I motherfucking AM. But what are you going to do for my mercy, little sufferer? What do you have to barter with to stay close to your mate while you walk my decks?"

He grit his teeth together, jaw twitching as his brows drew together. They both knew the one thing he was good for in the eyes of the Empire. He had other talents, but why would the Highblood give half a flying fuck about them? He wasn't fit to act on those talents, persuasive argument, leadership, in the small ways he'd been allowed to have it, good projection for yelling a block full of rowdy trolls down into submission. None of that was what he wanted to hear about. He took a slow breath, gathering his resolve, determined not to kneel there and quiver like a useless plate of translucent gelatinous shit. If it came down to it, and he had to offer himself, at least he'd /be/ himself. 

"If I have to pay, doesn't that negate the concept of gift giving? What happened to your good karma?" 

"Just assigning you to one SHIP is going to be a significant pain in the GLUTES, boy." the Grand Highblood told him, which was true enough. Breeding limebloods were more precious than gold, and arguably more precious than high grade psionics. They were the backbone of gene selection for the empire, not to mention a social tool to manipulate high ranking officials accordingly. To have one assigned to a particular ship was only going to be possible because Kurloz would hex Meenah into the next millennium if she didn't, and she would rather give in than risk damage to her trim figure or gorgeous visage. "To narrow it down even more than that instead of passing you around to all my officers? All the cardinals? Them who's considered DESERVING?"

"If you send me off to another ship, a seadweller warship, say, there's a very good chance I'll be culled for my mutation. The stars aligned to a perfect fucking miracle that I ended up here on my first assignment. That I look like someone you used to know. That Gamzee thinks my freakish candy red blood looks like delicious red pop. I mean, admittedly, it does." He rolled back his shoulders, took another breath. He cut himself short before he could start rambling, that came easy as breathing to him when he was nervous as fuck, and trying to hide it. 

"Did it cross your mind even once to do it for your descendent? He worships you, he obeys you unquestioningly, even when--" He stopped himself short, staring heatedly into the darkness, feeling that simmering rage boil again, the defensiveness of his sweet mate when he came limping in after the Highblood had done with him. "He's your heir, and it would make him happy. Why are you so invested in keeping him low? Do you think he would challenge you, otherwise? I think you know him better than that." These questions maybe weren't as relevant to /his/ current predicament as they could have been, but they were burning hot in him nonetheless, and wouldn't be contained for any measure of good sense weighed against them.

The room went quiet, and still. It had been a long time since absolutely any troll had said something to startle the Grand Highblood, and yet here again, it had happened. Here, by the little spitfire kneeling on his floor, burning himself up with so much passion towards Kurloz's descendant. He waited a few moments, trying to think of how to respond. "And what EXACTLY do you think I've done to bring him LOW?" he asked.

"You try to cut the gentleness out of him." He began, barely having to think about it. "Weakness and heartlessness are two different things. It takes a fucking resilience to love in this screwed up world. He has love for the messiahs, he has love for you. And yet every time he comes back from being carved and torn and used up by you, he's a little more broken, he's a little more distant from that love. Maybe you learned love and obedience through pain and suffering, but he isn't like that. It's not /necessary/ to torture him. All you have to do for his loyalty is love him in return." He didn't say that he'd learned this from personal experience, but it echoed heavy in the silence between them anyway.

There was that silence, heavy as a mourning veil, the darkness twice as dense. And then there was a hand, around Karkat's throat, faster than he could make the visual connection, faster still than he could register it. The Grand Highblood lifted him clear of the floor this time, not even playing at the idea he might lose his balance. It was strange, to not even see the Grand Highblood's face twisted with rage, to merely see it as smooth, mostly blank, eyes bright as ever as they bore holes into Karkat's own sockets. "You think I don't KNOW what he has in him. You think I don't KNOW what parts of mine he TOOK when he was HATCHED?"

Karkat's hands flew up to his own throat, instinctive, his blunt claws scrabbling into the black hand gripping vicelike around his throat, lifting him up off of his feet and clamped down on his airways, leaving him to choke and flush a dark red, feet kicking as if trying to find his balance. But he didn't close his eyes, he stared into the Highblood's searing bright gaze, defiant. "Then why," he rasped out, clinging onto his fingers, though trying to pry them loose was the same as asking him to bend a steel girder with his bare hands.

"I know what he NEEDS to SURVIVE. And I know what he needs to BLOSSOM. And I know what he needs for CONTROL." Kurloz told him, finding he was much angrier than he was really giving himself credit for. The idea that he would hurt Gamzee, willingly and just for the sake of it, made him almost blindingly enraged, so much so he temporarily forgot he /didn't/ want to endanger Karkat's life. "You don't know the half of it. You ain't got a PAN or a SOUL same as us. You ever asked him if he likes it? You ever ask him if he NEEDS it?"

"He told me he did." He swallowed, his throat aching and bruised under the tight grip of the Highblood's hand, his pusher pounding so hard it was echoing and throbbing through his braincase painfully, and his lungs were starting to burn. This was something, though. He hadn't known before, whether the Highblood gave a shit about his descendant other than not having his legacy embarrassed by an incompetent successor. If he cared, if he loved Gamzee in some way, even backwards and twisted, maybe he could see some /reason/.

"And you thought you knew better 'n him. But thinking ain't what you was fuckin HATCHED FOR, WAS IT?" he groused, letting Karkat drop to the ground in a heap of limbs, agitated. He was frowning, now, and he paced aggressively, taking massive strides and trying to remind himself not to get caught up again, not to execute Karkat like he'd executed - "You ain't got no CONCEPTION of what it's fucking /like/, being this high indigo. You ain't heard the voice of our most WICKED FUCKING MESSIAH and the distant laughter of his MIRTHFUL BROTHER in your own fucking pan. You ain't ever smelled blood and needed more like you was going to DIE of it. You ain't ever lost CONTROL. You don't know what it's like to need it BACK."

Karkat collapsed hard onto the ground when he was dropped, bruising his knees and elbows as he caught himself, sucking in a deep breath too quickly and coughing it back up, wheezing. He rubbed at his throat and forced himself to take controlled breaths. This hadn't been going like Sollux had suggested, was it. Wasn't he supposed to be charming and seducing this fucking brute? Wasn't it his gods given talent to pap anyone into affectionate submission, even a merciless behemoth like him? Maybe not merciless, he amended. He wasn't dead yet.

"Maybe you could tell me," he tried, his voice low and hoarse, but solemn. He had compassion in him even for the Highblood, he realized, despite the fact that he hated him for hurting Gamzee. He too had been hurt, no doubt. He too must have suffered through sweeps of torture, molding him by trial into the kind of troll who was strong enough to win this title for himself, to assume the massive responsibility that came along with being head of the whole fucking church.

Kurloz looked at Karkat for a long moment, before his eyes closed and he turned away. His fingers twisted in a thick column of incense, and he breathed it in; copal, spiced and heady, wrapped through his senses, twined in his hair like a playful companion. It was good for conversations like this, words that he normally didn't waste on trolls more easily killed for asking dumb fucking questions. 

"I didn't become head of the church by no accident. It was serendipity that guided my glutes to the throne and the will of the goddamn MESSIAHS that I am what I am. Why would we be resurrected if we weren't created as we were meant to be?" His eyes opened as he lit a new stick of incense from another, placed it in the delicate pillar of beeswax that held all that burned in his private room. "All descendants are born with pieces of their ancestors. And if they ain't got all, they got to absorb it. They brought him to me when he was a hundred sweeps, and I could see it already. I could FEEL the motherfucking ILLNESS IN HIS VEINS. The motherfucking NEED to take one life after another. Friend, foe. Until someone motherfucking STOPS you."

"It's common knowledge that highbloods have a tendency to madness." He said, carefully, building up to his point. "I never denied that whatever it is the two of you do helps get his pan screwed on properly. But if you care, if you're doing it out of love and not just to subjugate him, why don't you clean his wounds? He crawls back to his chambers like a kicked barkbeast. Hundreds of fucking sweeps old and he's starved for some fucking papping. Why else would he have fallen so easily for me? You set him up to devote himself to the first scrap of sweetness thrown his way. He's got sweetness in fucking droves. Did he get that from you, or was that an accident?"

"He ain't get that from me. He took the lot of it from the little limeblood what hosted him." the Grand Highblood said. It had been a long time since he'd thought on that. The feelings had once been an acute ache, sharp and painful, but now he couldn't even remember their name. He couldn't remember what they'd called any of the other grubs, any of the wrigglers who died along the way. There was just Gamzee, and a certitude that whatever goodness was inside of him had never belonged to Kurloz, himself. "He can't come to rely on me for tenderness, little one. It has to be control or softness, and he showed what he needed a long time ago. Stars would lead him to someone new, always knew that."

He flushed with heat at those words, catching himself gawking a little, at the sheer amount of fucking personal information that had just been dumped on him. He might have gone fishing with a pale solicitation, but he hadn't expected the Highblood to /bite/. An admission that he'd loved the limeblood who had sired Gamzee, even a little. A genuine reflection on his relationship, and to put a cherry on top of the fucking incredulous cake that was this unexpected pale feelings jam, a pet name that didn't include suffering or breeding or mutation. After he made doubly sure his jaw wasn't about to fall off and shatter on the floor, he took a breath and steeled himself. "Are you talking about me? Are you saying that you believe the stars led him to me?"

"I'm saying it was written in you before you were even WRITTEN. There was ONE other limeblood with your fucking blood; ONE that glowed red beneath the green fucking moon. And I killed him, and now you're here. But I'm not so blind as to think I'm the only part of myself that could be the reason." Kurloz said, startlingly passionate about the statement. But then, everything about this encounter was startling. Maybe there was a reason to that, too, something divine to be taken in stride.

He stared at him, and though the questions were burning inside of him, he didn't ask them. He wanted so badly to know who that other troll was, but he also knew this wasn't the time to push it, wasn't the time to tempt fate. Wasn't he coming out on top of this encounter after all? Sollux hadn't heard his voice screaming the obscenities of the damned, he hadn't come into his presence worried so much about being culled, but he also hadn't fully expected things to go so well. He wasn't in much danger of relaxing, though, not before he was sent back to Gamzee. 

He let the older troll's words settle into the air, and kept his own windhole shut for once. It was as if stopping himself from asking that burning question had backed up the rest of his questions, too, and he exhaled, shaky, running both hands back through his mop of coarse curls, staring at the floor to compose himself, wondering if he were going to be dismissed, if he'd won the right to be there, or if he was still expected to present that bargaining chip.

"So you're meant to be with him, in some configuration. I ain't claimin to know how, but I know why. But that still don't sort out the legalities of keeping you here. What price is worth it, Vantas?" he said, his tone slipping low with the last name. He remembered it, every character, every syllable. But Karkat wasn't Kankri exact, so he stuck to the surname. "What cost to keep the bed of your lover, when you ought to be out there, balancing the whole ship, taking requests?"

Fuck, so he wasn't out of the red yet. But, he thought, at this very moment he had a lot less hatred in his heart for the elder Makara. The prospect of what he had to do seemed a little less despicably vile. "You know, that's a pretty fucking underhanded way to go about this," he groused. "You and I both know what the hell you're talking about here, I mean other than the unparalleled pleasure of my private company in your chambers, to reminisce about your blood ties and your ancient histories with. But you want me to say it, right?" 

He took a slow breath, closing his eyes, and then opening them again, staring out into the coalesced darkness, meeting the Highblood's glowing indigo gaze. "I thought it might be physically impossible, but I was proven wrong on that count. You do realize I haven't slept in sopor for a week and my nook is a gory mess, right? Or are the dark rings under my eyes and exhaustion lines turning you on?"

"Little one, don't pretend you don't know by now. I thought surely with all that bitterness your pusher's up and contrived for me, you'd have guessed." Kurloz said, walking back over to him. A smile split his face, horrid in the jagged dark, the lines of his teeth and paint only making it seem more fractured. "This ain't about pleasure. It's about /control/."

His whole body seized up with involuntary, irrational terror at that grin, horrible and viciously gleeful. He had to swallow to get his throat less dry, so he didn't croak or squeak or something equally mortifying when he opened his mouth next. "And suffering. If I remember rightly."

"You know what they say: what doesn't kill you only scars." the Grand Highblood told him, his grin only growing, somehow, monstrous and unyielding. He kept his hands to himself, though, and merely stood, looming, over Karkat. "Do we have a deal, Vantas?"

It took him a moment to respond, the silence dragging out long and weighted between them, as he craned his neck to keep looking up at the Highblood. He imagined Gamzee taking care of him, the way he'd taken care Gamzee after the Highblood had torn him up. He also remembered the state of Gamzee's nook after those sessions, and he wondered whether when he'd be able to use his for pleasure again. But this was the only way, he'd known it was before he'd even set foot in here. 

"Yes," he said, holding perfectly still, jaw set, though his eyes betrayed his fears. He wouldn't cry, he told himself, wouldn't scream or plead. Maybe he'd pass out, that would be the easiest thing. Maybe it wouldn't be quite as bad as he thought, though that seemed very fucking unlikely. "Try not to fucking break me in half with your bulge. I mean I've been working myself around huge indigo trouser snake for a couple of perigees, but I'm a thousand goddamn percent certain I'm not ready for whatever the hell is in your pants. If you're even wearing any, I can't really tell."

"Little point when it's just you, me, and the shadows, is there?" he laughed, and though it was quieter than his normal booms it was more chilling, somehow, rattling the soul instead of the body. The shadows around him shivered again, seemed to shake out like a thousand tendrils from him, making him bigger, nearly letting his black carapace blend against them. There were few true adults that wore much clothing that wasn't decorative - and he only put on armour when he went in to battle, or his robes when he went to preach, decoration for duty. He reached out and plucked Karkat up again, holding him by the joint of his shoulder and arm, inspecting. "Gamzee is only in his first molt. This is my third hundredth. If I wanted you to die on my bulge, I'd just choke you with it. Though that doesn't seem a bad place to START."

His eyes widened to the size of fucking nutrition plateaus as he hung useless as a ragdoll in the Highblood's grasp, not even bothering to grab onto his arm or kick to try to get some purchase or leverage. "Yeah, all right," he muttered, skeptical and dizzy both. At least this way he'd get to see his fucking bulge before he was reamed with it.

"Don't sound so EXCITED." he laughed, dragging Karkat a little farther into his room. There was a bed, and a massive pool on the far wall, same as Gamzee's - the bed was just a /lot/ bigger in this case, with enough room to fit a multitude of Karkat's in it. He let Karkat off on the side of the bed, giving him the choice to kneel or hop down. After all, there was a lot he was about to be feeling, and Kurloz wasn't a monster - no need to make the little limeblood kneel on hard stone. He pinched one of Karkat's horns, shook him a little by it. "I thought you were supposed to be docile and sweet right about now, hm?"

"This /is/ me being docile and sweet. You haven't seen me truly fucking hostile and bitter. Not yet. Consider yourself still on my good side." Some of the residual terror had mellowed out with his agreement to do the thing. It was no longer just a potential it was a reality, and it was time to rush in. That was what he was good at, it was the waiting and nailbiting and speculation that fucked him up. This was just pailing, no matter how big his bulge was, no matter how near-impossible it was going to be to get his eggs through his flap. He was good at pailing. He'd be willing to bet he was more prepared than any other limeblood that had ever crawled into the Highblood's bed. He knelt at the edge of the mattress, sitting back on his heels and looking up at him. With the height of the mattress to bolster him, he was at just about the right height on his knees to get at the other troll's bulge.

"You can save that for the end." the Grand Highblood chuckled. There was no harm in letting Karkat start to feel comfortable - it meant his defenses would be lowered, which was exactly what he had in mind for this little exercise. But he didn't press in, just yet, no. He pulled back a little, enough distance between them that Karkat could see his bulge start to unwind, the shadows around him moving up out of the way far enough that he could see that Kurloz was apparently out-bulged, too. But the similarities seemed to end there - it was as long as Karkat's arm, maybe, and ridiculously thick. The base of it tapered out with black chitin from his carapace and all the nodules and bumps had been transformed into cruel looking peaks and trenches, some of the pointier configurations edged with black chitin at the tips, too.

He swallowed, he'd known that the Highblood was probably as height-bulge proportional as Gamzee was, but fucking wow. He figured he could maybe get a fourth of it into his nook without tearing, on a good day. Right now, when he was already torn up and swollen, he wasn't so sure. Still, as it uncurled, Karkat reached for it, wrapped both hands around the girth of it and stroked down from the tip, fingertips running along the texture of it, rubbing into the little bumps to the base where they were even harder and sharper. He leaned forward and slid his cheek along the tip of it, exhaling so he could feel the heat of his breath. He knew he ran even hotter than a rustblood, Gamzee was fascinated with that. He banked on the same for the troll before him as he turned his head to press his mouth against the side of his bulge, dragging it wetly up to the tip, tongue wriggling against the cool, slick, textured flesh.

That heat was something more for him, something that had followed him into visions and day terrors, something that left him aching in his core. Feeling it now was a surreal experience, and enough to distract him for a minute or two as Karkat tried to work his mouth over him. He so wanted to see that blood, imperial crimson running tracks down the silk grey of his skin, gummed up in the black of his hair. But he refrained, now, only bringing his claws down to grasp at Karkat's hair some, to begin pressing him down, making him take more. "So that little mouth is good for something other than LIES and HERESY."

Karkat scraped his teeth into him when he pushed his bulge deeper, choking around it and flushing bright red, his eyes watering as he tried to remember to loosen his throat as the tip of it slid down it, as his jaw stretched uncomfortably wide around the girth of him. One hand moved to grip against his hip for leverage, though it wasn't going to do him much good, they were hardly matched. He didn't bite down in earnest though, or try to struggle away, he wanted to be up to the fucking challenge, even if he chafed at the accusations. It wasn't as if they were lies though, he /was/ hiding his color. He /was/ a mutant who had smuggled himself into the highest, holiest central ship of the whole fucking Church and presumed to make himself important enough to bear the eggs of the two most powerful subjuggulators in the whole Empire.

Kurloz held him down past the point of discomfort, past the point of his throat spasming, trying to figure out whether to swallow or reject the bulge that was prodding into it. He waited until Karkat's hands were claws on his hips, until he felt him start to slip back from the stream of consciousness. Only then did he pull his bulge back, but only far enough to let Karkat breathe through his nose before the onslaught started again, the girth of the bulge more than enough to hold his mouth open, the bulge twisting itself around his tongue, rubbing it as though this were all some bizarre kind of kiss.

Karkat's eyes were watering, his hands gripped tight into the Highblood's hips, but this was easy enough. He wasn't going to cry uncle over a little rough throat fucking, it was just fuel on the fire, and as uncomfortable as it was he felt his nook getting hotter too, even as aching and tender as it was, responding to the way his bulge was writhing and stroking his tongue, shoving into the close of his throat as if it were his seedflap, a mental image that got a muffled groan squeezed out of his throat before it was blocked off again a moment later.

He could smell that, too, the pheromones starting to scent the air between them keenly, mixing with the scent of incense all around them, the wax of the candles burning. Kurloz kept at it, his bulge curling and prodding into Karkat's throat, pulling back every now and again to writhe against his mouth, to tickle his tongue. He waited until he could feel the /ache/ for it, the want that his body shouldn't have made, not after having laid just that week. But it was there, and by the time he had pulled back his bulge, Karkat looked a pretty sight, panting, his swollen lips parted and covered in bright indigo.

By the time he was able to gulp a clean, full lungful of air, Karkat was already a mess, his curls disheveled by the Highblood's long fingers, his lips and chin smeared with indigo slurry and spit, his lips swollen. He tried to work the dazed expression on his face into something more like a scowl as he wiggled his jaw and wiped the mess off of his mouth. His bulge had crept nearly all the way out of his sheath, and was rubbing solicitously against the inseam of his loose pants, not exactly subtle.

"Heh... Keep that look, it suits you..." he murmured, mostly because it did. After all, he remembered that look, that look that had belonged to /him/. It was something he'd imagined so many times under this context, but now, here it was. He held Karkat's hair tight in his hand as he leaned down to kiss him, to bite against his mouth with those massive, razor like teeth before dragging him backwards, pulling him clear off his knees. His other hand had reached down to press against his bone sheath, to solicit his ovipositor, knowing from experience how to manage it.

His pusher was pounding fast in his chest at the kiss, and he bit him back with a growl, trying not to think about the fact that he could probably bite his whole face clean off with those fangs of his. He was being gentle, for all that they cut into his lips and tongue, for all that he could taste the rich sweet tang of his own blood. He fell onto his back on the massive platform with an undignified huff of breath, and scowled more, propping himself up on his elbows to see what was going on. When he saw the Highblood already coaxing out his egg stem, his breath caught, and he dumbly reverted automatically to his training, spreading his thighs open, even though he was still wearing pants.

It made Kurloz pause to laugh, a full noise that shook his body, and the bedframe with it. It was just so odd to him, who had never considered Karkat much of a breeder, even if that was what he was supposed to be. He forgot it so regularly that it took several reminders from Gamzee that he was even bearing grubs. He still saw the flames of a revolutionary when he looked at Karkat, and so he was caught entirely off guard by the gesture. But he managed his claws in the fabric a heartbeat later, tearing his trousers open with ease, ripping them off of his body despite the noise of protest he made. "More important things for your attention, little spitfire..."

Karkat was seconds away from demanding to know what the hell was so damn funny when the Highblood finally reached for him. He made a low growl of protest when his pants were torn… he'd liked those pants, and now what the fuck was he going to wear when he walked back to his block? Though, being able to walk at all after this was probably wishful thinking. 

He'd snapped his knees together automatically when the fabric ripped off of him, but he spread them again now, slowly, revealing his little thick tapered bulge, a lick of bright candy red curled up against his abdomen, and the slit of his nook below, swollen and hot and already dripping slurry. He stayed up on his elbows though, too stubborn to try to relax, or look away from the task at hand.

The Grand Highblood had had to kneel one knee against the bed, leaning forward a little to get leverage over Karkat. It was almost comedic how much he dwarfed him, how his ovipositor was big enough to actually stretch Karkat just a little when it was pressing in, despite its size in comparison with the rest of his body. It would have been comedic, except that Karkat was going to have to deal with it, and the humor was lost as reality started to solidify around him. But Kurloz would give him credit- he'd rather go white knuckled in the sheets than look away. "Such a brave little thing, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about, this is a walk in the fucking park." He hissed out, focusing, as the indigo's ovipositor slid deeper inside of him, bumping up against the sore, healing places in his nook, a sharp stinging feeling, mixed with a surge of pleasure as his endorphins spiraled up, as his hormones told him /yes/ even as his nook was saying /fuck off/. From the moment he'd touched his nook, too, a heavy dose of pheromones had rolled off of him, obvious even to him in the air, mixed with scents of his fear and arousal and exhaustion, broadcast to his mate clear as if he'd been shouting them at the top of his lungs. When his ovipositor reached the end of his nook, his seedflap flexed reflexively, and he groaned. It was mostly healed from the eggs tearing through, and he didn't even think it bled him any when the thick rod of his ovipositor forced it's way though, deep inside of him. He shuddered, from the nape of his neck down his spine, and through his nook, as he lost track of just how much of that thing he'd taken inside of him.

There was absolutely no way the whole thing was going to go inside - egg stems didn't bend back like bulges, and he was equipped to be mating with as big a troll as possible - in other words, himself, or the size Gamzee would become. But that was alright, because he could still feel the warmth of Karkat's body, radiating around him, the tip of his ovipositor sending shocks of pleasure back up through his body, the pheromones only making it better, broadcasting everything. He leaned forward, set his massive hands on Karkat's hips, holding him as he felt the first egg start to press through.

It was a good fucking thing the indigo's hands were wrapped so securely around his hips, because when the first egg started to push at his nook, thicker than he could take, he instinctively tried to writhe away from it, to take pressure off of his nook as the ovipositor swelled in it, opening him up to force that first egg through. The barely-knit skin he'd torn open delivering tore again now, in a pretty drip of hot red, and he screamed, clawing at the sheets and digging his heels in hard so he wouldn't kick out at him, throwing his head back and just venting out the pain of it in a loud, ragged sound. It fucking /hurt/, and it hurt worse and worse, and when he felt it pass through the opening of his nook, and shove even quicker through the passage of it to bump up against his seedflap, he let out a little dry sob. 

Even so, he thought, even if he had to get a dozen fucking eggs inside of him, he wasn't going to break down, he swore, as he fisted his hands into the sheets, nearly tearing at the silky fabric, trembling all over and already breaking into a light sweat. Screaming had made him feel a little better, actually, and he drew in a slow breath, fully fucking prepared to do it some more when his seedflap stretched around the egg.

It was then that he decided to press in, with all his force - the egg moving through his ovipositor was something almost mind numbingly pleasurable, but he had persevered through worse conditions. He pressed his mind against Karkat's, prodding at the animal part of it, at the part of it that desperately wanted to let go, to stop comprehending what he was supposed to do and to just /react/. There was only so much pain a body could take, so much exhaustion, before they went feral, and Kurloz knew it. It only got more intense as the egg started to press forward, Karkat's seedflap trying and failing to dilate enough to fit it in.

Karkat wasn't far gone enough that he didn't feel those filthy inky black fronds poking into his mind, the tendrils wrapping around his pan and coaxing it. He screamed again, in pain and frustration and rage, thrashing and clawing at the sheets, at the Highblood's forearms holding down his hips, writhing and arching as his body tried to pull back, without his conscious consent. He knew consciously that it had to fit, knew that he could take it. He hadn't felt it when Gamzee had put his eggs into him that first time, but he didn't want that numbness now. If this fucker wanted him to suffer, he'd suffer. He'd rather suffer, than let the Highblood into his mind, than to let himself pretend that it was anything near like the pleasure he got from pailing Gamzee, these days, the sweet burn of being stretched until it was almost too much and then just held right there, being filled up with slurry until he spent himself.

"Stubborn, aren't you?" Kurloz laughed, still pressing in. He had faced harder opponents, he was sure - it was just that he could normally get a sense for them, hear the tumblers of their mind as he picked it carefully. With Karkat, it was more like trying to pick a brick wall, shoving at the cracks in the stones until he hit something that moved. He kissed Karkat though, he loved him for it, he thought, for his stupid, dumb luck to have a mutation that fought against the Highblood's tricks. He allowed the biting, allowed the scream as the first egg pressed inside of him, the tear a visceral feeling, even through his ovipositor.

"Fuck…you….nngghhh…" He gasped out hoarsely, panting for breath, relief rippling through him once the egg had passed through, and his seedflap and nook were given a reprieve, however brief. He tried not to tense up in anticipation of the next one, tried to take deep slow breaths, tried to remind himself that pain was all in the mind. If Gamzee could switch him off like that, after all, maybe if he just fucking focused he could disassociate without any fucking chucklevoodoo tricks twisting up his pan like dough into a salt twist.

The next egg - the last egg, he thought, after the first hundred thousand sweeps, his body had only produced two every cycle - pressed in just as the last. No matter how Karkat had tried to relax himself, his body still seemed to tense at the actual presence of it. But it had already been torn open, and despite the excruciating pain, it took less time for it to actually get through, to sit inside of his nook. He'd let the scream ring out, that time, shivering with it. It wasn't as though he could deny that he took a certain amount of pleasure with pain as much as with fear, that it fed something inside of him, magnified how /good/ it all was. "If you think these are big, wait until I give you my bulge, sweet thing. You'll be on your back for /nights/."

He bit into his lip to stifle a weaker little cry of relief when that second egg passed, then hissed at him. "You know you only need to stick the tip in for it to be effective, don't you, you sadistic fucker." He licked his lips, took a slow, shuddering breath, and stared up at him, from flat on his back now, not bothering to try to prop himself up as he felt his ovipositor slide back out. Only two? He'd been expecting a lot more, frankly, but it was a relief. It would certainly make passing them back out again slightly more bearable.

"What can I say? You look so beautiful WHEN YOU SCREAM." he breathed, grinning as he kissed Karkat's throat, let his teeth nestle against the pulse of it. When his ovipositor was tucked away inside of him again, he leaned forward a little more, though his legs were still on either side of Karkat's, plenty of room to let him spread his own out as wide as he could have wanted to. His bulge was ready, still dripping from being sucked on, from all the pheromones stewing in the air. It was undistracted by Kurloz still trying to dig into Karkat's mind, more determined now as his bulge began to press in to the mutant, all that hot nook being filled, the press slow but insistent, refusing to back off.

He reached up to grip into his shoulders and neck, blunt nails digging into his dark, carapaced skin, trying hard not to hyperventilate as he felt his bulge slide against, and then into his nook. It hurt, but not as much as those eggs had, they were a sudden sharp stretch and tear, the slide of his bulge was a slow, cold burn, tapered like it was. True to his estimation, the first fourth of it fit inside of him without much fuss, stretching him out, making him bleed, but he grit his teeth and breathed through it, it was a more pleasant sensation even with the tearing, more familiar. His bulge had drawn fully back into his sheath while the eggs had being laid into him, but now the first inch or so peeked back out. 

When he felt the press into his mind again he growled, and shoved back, hard, shutting his own thoughts down, private, shoving that probing touch away as if it were a physical hand, or a tentacle, in a way that he couldn't do with the indigo's bulge.

The more Karkat tried to push him a way, the more he pressed back - physically as much as mentally. His bulge kept going, kept pressing forward. There would come a point where it really wouldn't fit, but he estimated that at least half, and perhaps a little more might. More, even, if he were unopposed to shoving it back where it wasn't meant to go, which he was rapidly considering. His claws pressed into Karkat's hips, starting to sink in like blades, wilfully cruel. After all - this was about control, wasn't it, he thought. "I'll get into you one way or another." he told Karkat, voice low and sensual, "You'll be picking PIECES OF ME out of your head for sweeps."

Karkat exhaled slowly at the threat, eyes opening again to stare up at him, his thighs trembling, his hands curled to fists, muscles in his arms corded as they shoved back against his chest, not budging him of course, just braced. It was an instinctual reaction to the pain of being split apart, driven into so deeply, stretched so wide. His nook felt like someone had ripped into it with both hands and shoved burning coals in there, maybe sprinkled with some broken glass for good measure, sharp scraping pain adding to the burning stretch every time one of those damn nubs or sharp ridges rubbed against his walls. 

"Did you get into /him/?" He asked, voice rough but clear, not trembling at all, not cowering, somehow. "I fucking doubt you'd be trying so hard to crack my pan if you had. I bet you never even pailed him." It was a shot in the dark, but at least if he refuted it, he'd have another piece of that puzzle, that he was working on even while he was half crazy with pain, every muscle in his body tensed and screaming at him, his nerve endings buzzing distractingly.

One hand slid up, wrapped easily around the slender stem of Karkat's throat, massive thumb atop his windpipe, stroking it deeply enough to not let him breathe for stretches at a time as he pulled back, looked into Karkat's eyes. His own were still glowing, still bright with violent light, able to keep everything going as he pressed in, as he tried his best to get into Karkat's mind. He wouldn't give up; he would never give up. "I never considered pailing him." he told Karkat, even as his bulge continued to slide in, the ridges getting sharp and wild. "I barely considered his mind worth much until the end. His secrets meant little to me. The revolution died with him."

"Hnnnnghhh," he grit his teeth, but sound was coming out anyway, a broken keening noise, eyes blurring with hot, unshed tears, his arms trembling too much to keep his hands curled to fists, muscles seizing up and shaking too much to stay tensed. He tore his gaze away, finally, turning his head to one side, eyes wide and glassy, panting and gurgling out little desperate noises, not even words. He heard what the Highblood was saying, and he filed it away for his brain to actually comprehend later, right now his whole world was pain. He let his body give in, as control of his physical facilities slipped, he might have fucking wet himself if he wasn't so stuffed full of bulge that every hole between his legs other than his nook was sealed impossibly tight, including his sheath. 

He distantly heard himself sobbing, and realizing he'd broken that promise to himself weakened him even more. He felt the claws he'd been shutting out sink through his defenses, into his mind, and he was too tired, he hurt too much to fight them off. It had been a week without sopor, a week healing from the trauma of bearing, from the elated exhaustion of constantly watching his grubs. And it felt so good to give up, to just let the Highblood have what he wanted.

Kurloz had to be careful of himself for a moment, to ease off of the energy it had taken to push through. This was intimacy, to him; to be so close to another troll that they could hide nothing, more intimate than pailing, than breeding. He plunged into Karkat's mind with an elated rush, digging up his pains, his fears, and cradling them close to the forefront, breaking him out in shivers as Kurloz started to knot up inside of him, the combination of his nook and his mind too much to restrain himself from.

As it happened, Karkat felt his own mind being parsed, felt his darkest secrets, fears and hopes being browsed through like a trashy magazine, glossy pages flicking over so thoughtlessly, and him an embarrassed, humiliated bystander to it. It made him angry, but he barely had the strength to be angry just then, he was exhausted, still sobbing in little broken gasps, but chirring between them, as his body gave over to breeding instinct, the one that send clear messages to his endorphins that /yes, yes yes/ slurry was about to be delivered to the eggs inside of him, and that he had to take it in and hold it at any and all costs.

It wasn't as though Kurloz was devoid of any feeling towards him - now that the strain had served it's purpose, he was full of kisses, of tongue that laved into little marks and wounds, of claws that scratched gently at Karkat's grubscars. But he was still so hot and tight, and he couldn't ignore that any more than he could ignore the pheromones he was sure he'd be smelling for a week afterwards. He felt his bulge start to swell with slurry, but his mind picked on through Karkat's, delving in to his fears especially. How he loved Gamzee, how he was terrified of losing him. How he was terrified of losing himself. How alone he had felt all those sweeps, and how he knew he couldn't live without this, without his friends and his lover. How he feared this, too - the loss of control, the invasion of his thoughts, so used to keeping secret, so used to hiding himself. Kurloz kissed his mouth as he started to feel himself come, a cool gush of slurry inside of him, greedily sucked up, his seedflap trying to spasm and only making small progress, held open so far by Kurloz's bulge already.

He groaned and bit at his mouth, but weakly, mostly just letting himself be kissed, touched, claimed. Angry as he was, as vulnerable as he felt with the invasion of his thoughts, he still couldn't bring himself to hate the Highblood, not when he too had bared so much of himself to him. To, he reminded himself, a mutant limeblood breeder, who was inappropriately and deeply love with his heir. It was already a fucking miracle he hadn't been culled. Much less trusted with the Highblood's own spawn, much less spoken to like an equal, tolerated. 

When he felt the rush of slurry, another choked scream left his throat, hoarse and low, shuddering in pleasure as he felt his abdomen swell with the sheer, overwhelming volume of slurry being funneled directly into him. He whined and clawed at him like a feral, hips rocking against the knot in his bulge that was tearing him open, coaxing him, milking the slurry out of him, his mind barely registering the damage that extra friction was doing, shredding up his already aching nook.

Kurloz could hardly help himself, either. Karkat felt so /good/. Different from Gamzee by miles, by planets, of course he was; but it was viscerally /good/, he thought, letting his slurry pump out, fertilize the eggs inside of him. Slowly, he drew himself a little back from Karkat's mind as the flow stopped, leaving a little path into it for himself next time, if he could make it again - a little chink in the armour that would grow bigger every time. He pressed his hand to Karkat's abdomen, purring. "You did good, little one."

He tried to rebuke the praise, tried to curse at him, but his tongue was too thick in his mouth and it just came out as a rough gurgle instead, and he hissed in frustration, lifting one shaking hand up to his face to rub viciously at his swollen, leaking occulars, letting his head fall back on the mattress, aching and exhausted beyond words. He just wanted to roll over and sleep right there in the mess of blood and slurry, he was so /tired/. And drained even more from the effort of holding the Highblood away from his mind for so long, a deep soul-weariness from having put up so much effort and fallen on his face anyway.

He could feel that weariness, picked up Karkat's hands from his face and held them away, kissing him again. Kissing him and pushing back his resistance until Karkat lay limp beneath him, defeated. Restful. He kept him like that until he unknotted, and then pressed the rest of the way down, until he felt the limeblood's mind go blank with slumber.

*

It wasn't until he was laid out on Gamzee's bed that Karkat was able to do anything close to reawakening. And by then, Gamzee had done a lot of work, as exhausted as he had felt from the jadeblood's departure, from seeing his and Karkat's grubs off. Stronger medigel had been allotted to him, which had boggled Gamzee's mind. But he had dutifully applied it, glad to know that Karkat would heal faster than ever before, and that he'd feel almost none of the pain when he awoke - and certainly none of it after he could be made to take some medicine.

Karkat blinked awake blearily, his eyes focusing before his mind did. It took him a long moment to grasp onto anything, and when he did finally realize that he was in Gamzee's block, and then he remembered a moment later where he'd been before, he cursed. "What the flipping fuck happened, did I learn how to sleepwalk or did I somehow teleport back into your bed? I can't feel anything below my waist or above my knees, and I intend to pretend to be comatose for as long as it takes that to continue being true. Hello by the way, I cannot tell you what a fucking relief it is to see your face."

Gamzee looked at him for a moment before he seemed to be overcome with emotion, words all choked up. It was such a relief to see him, too, such a relief that when he'd woken up... It had been Karkat there. "I'm motherfucking glad to see you too, motherfucker. I... He brought you back, little brother. I woke up and saw you and I thought... Fuck."

"All right I said I'm not moving and I fucking meant it so get your painted ass down here on top of me right now so I can pap the ever loving shit out of you." He extended his arms, expectantly, and when Gamzee leaned down he wrapped them around his neck, burying his face into him, making a low muffled sound of relief into his skin. He stroked his fingers into the back of his neck, into his scalp, across his shoulder blades, then gave up on that and just clung to him as tightly as he could for awhile, not intending to let go until his arms started cramping.

Gamzee breathed him in - he'd had to bathe Karkat too, he'd thought that prudent seeing how much blood and slurry there was. He was doubly glad he'd done it now, because honest to the messiahs, he thought he might break down if Karkat didn't smell exactly like himself. But he did, and it was stupendous, and Gamzee kissed his cheek, still emotional. "He brought you back all limp like a motherfuckin rag doll, brother. I thought you was broken, I thought -" he sniffed, his voice dropping, "I thought I was gonna have to kill him."

He lowered his lashes to receive the kiss on his cheek, sweetly and graciously. "Gamzee, no one told you about brood presents, and like a fucking klutz you didn't look it up, so I got you one instead." He leaned in a little, rubbing his cheek against Gamzee's jaw, roughly, scenting him with intention, wanting to rub every inch of himself over every inch of the big violetblood still trapped in his own soft arms. "It cost a little something, but it's all I ever wanted, so I hope you think it's worth it, just like I did when I traded for it. Did he tell you? I get to stay…"

Gamzee shook his head, letting out a breath that would have been tearful if he got tearful anymore. It was odd, he had actually been afraid he would, been afraid he'd completely lose control of himself if anything had really happened to Karkat. But now he was scenting him back, letting himself be rubbed against, too, his hands stroking Karkat's arms, his shoulders. "No... The jadeblood... She took our brood. I thought they might come back for you or... Send you off later, but. I'm. I. /Best beloved/, I'm so motherfucking /glad/." he said, his voice tight with emotion.

Karkat squeezed his arms around Gamzee's neck, dragged him down until he was half sprawled on top of Karkat, crushing him a little, but though he wheezed the first breath or two in complaint, he also didn't let go, or loosen his grip to let Gamzee go anywhere else other than exactly where he was, pressed down against Karkat's chest, their faces smushed together as Karkat felt his eyes prickle, and kept rubbing his cheek and jaw against Gamzee's as his fingers tangled up in his hair. 

"Not only that, but I'll be /yours/ just yours. We can be fucking proper lovers. I hope you're happy about being the only goddamn indigo stupid enough to fall in love with a mutant limeblood. You're going to be the fucking laughing stock of the ship. I'd laugh at you too if I wasn't too busy adoring you like a pan addled wiggler with his first flush crush."

Gamzee kissed him again, deeply as he could without it getting /too/ sloppy. Not that sloppy would have mattered, he felt so deeply for Karkat in that moment that he was sure nothing did, that he wasn't sure of what to /do/ with himself, really. He loved Karkat so much that his chest was swollen with it, and that there was only love in his eyes when he pulled back to look into Karkat's, the long, curled softness of his lashes casting delicate shadows on them. "Best beloved, every chamber of my pusher is full of you. Ain't no room for anyone else in the whole of me."

"Me too, you enormous fucking sap." He murmured back, pulling him closer by the hands gripped into his hair to kiss his forehead, his nose, his eyelashes, his lips, softly. He shifted and felt a phantom pang of pain in his nook and grimaced. It was the sort of fuzzy-edged feeling that just let him politely know that if it weren't for a metric fuck ton of heavy grade medigel, his nook would be in excruciating, flaming agony. "I really wish we could fuck right now." He sighed, stroking his fingers through the wild snares of Gamzee's hair. "As soon as I'm healed, I promise. Now that the grubs have shipped off, your bulge is going to be my primary pastime again." He smirked a little, but it was soft around the edges, melancholy about the grubs still, though he knew that was just how things were. Well if they weren't pailing just now, might as well get all the pale out of the way. "How are you feeling about that? The grubs, I mean." He asked, soliciting.

He shrugged, his head laid against Karkat's shoulder, face tucked in against his hair. The idea that they were crossing the boundaries of quadrants never even occurred to him. How could it, when he had never had any kind of proper trollish relationship? His hands stroked across Karkat's body, over his sides, rubbing around the undersides of his grubscars, one at a time. His eyelashes fluttered against the limeblood's cheek. "Like they ain't anyone else's property. Like we should still have 'em. Like they'd die on this ship if we got it that way."

He huffed out a little short sigh, his pusher aching. That hit the steel peg right on the head to his own feelings about it. "Yeah," he agreed, just letting his cheek rest against Gamzee's painted one, inhaling deep and exhaling slow, letting the tingling pleasant sensations of those long gentle fingers on his grubscars calm him, reaching up to rub at Gamzee's horn beds, comfortingly. "We made them together. Perfect little assholes. They're so fucking beautiful."

"I hope your mutation does affect 'em. I hope they come out all with some of you. Most of you, if they're lucky." he said, kissing Karkat again, lamenting that it was next to impossible to beg off regulation to bear any of Karkat's grubs, regretting the mutation probably wouldn't affect them. But he could dream, he thought, stroking down Karkat's body. His fingertips stroked over his bulge sheath, careful not to go any farther down, just a pleasant tingle even if nothing else happened. He kissed behind Karkat's ear. "You're so fucking beautiful. You're everything."

He ached with pleasure at those words, from the troll he loved so much. He was so grateful to have him, to be his, so grateful that he had someone with which he could share the ache of missing those grubs that had been taken from them. He let his eyes close, kept rubbing his fingers, tenderly, into Gamzee's scalp. "Do you know anything about the limeblood that carried your egg?"

He stilled for a moment, quiet. It was something so far back in his own history that he had very nearly forgotten all about it. The pain seemed distant now; distant, but still alive in his mind, apparently. "Yeah." he said. "Not personally, you know, but. I remember being... I was raised on ship, y'know. All my siblings died, too. But that was after him. My egg was too big, it fuckin... Tore him wrong, I guess. He weren't all that hardy to begin with, hear tell. But I guess Kurloz loved him enough."

Karkat bit his lip and kept rubbing his fingers into his hornbeds, leaning in to kiss his throat, softly. "I'm sorry," he murmured, and he really was, sorry that Gamzee had to grow up the way he had, sorry that he'd been so lonely for so long, sorry he couldn't have known some of the tenderness he'd inherited from the limeblood that had borne him. But they had each other now, and he was fiercely determined to make up for the last thousand or so sweeps.

If he'd asked Gamzee, the indigo would have told him that he already had. In Gamzee's mind, that was true - that was more than true. Karkat was everything good he'd ever wanted in one beautiful, ornery little package of a troll. He really did adore him, with all his heart, and the aches of the past seemed distant now, here with him. "The world moves on, little brother. All we got to think on is now. And right now is... Pretty alright, you know?" he murmured, kissing Karkat's jaw before rubbing his own against it again. His fingertips rubbed against the little nodule of bulge that was peaking out, tempting it softly.

Karkat slapped feebly at Gamzee's head for getting him going again when he was so bone tired and aching, even after however long he'd spent passed out, and despite the fact that his nook was more tingling and numb than painful, and his bulge was decidedly /not/ numb, as it happily slid from his sheath, hot and swollen under the stroke of Gamzee's fingers. What the hell, he thought, if he were going to be glued on his back while his nook healed, they might as well. 

Gamzee leaned down, with Karkat's hot little hands wrapped around his horns, and kissed the base of Karkat's bulge, snaking his long tongue out to wrap around it, then sealing his lips against it and dragging up to the tip, then sliding back down to take the whole of it into his mouth. Karkat arched beneath him, pheromones heavy and sweet in the air as Gamzee worked at him with his mouth. He realized suddenly he really didn't give a flying fuck how torn up his nook was, how things had just gone from pale to red at the speed of light, or how tightly his fingers were clenched around Gamzee's horns. He didn't care about the little breathy, heated noises trickling from his throat, he just wanted the sensation of Gamzee's cool tongue and lips wrapped around and laving against his bulge to keep happening. 

And it did, mercifully, until he cried out in pleasure and spilled himself, trembling and tensing, then collapsing into a barely coherent heap on the soft resting platform. He might have mumbled something sweet or catty under his breath but he didn't remember, the last thing he felt before the heavier pain killers kicked in and drowsiness overcame him was Gamzee's long arms sliding around him, holding him to his chest.


	6. The Seadweller Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan comes to the church flagship to surprise his wigglerhood friend with a visit, and things get a bit heated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for Chapter 6:  
> Karkat/Eridan | Verbal Abuse (i.e. Eridan Is Sort Of A Dick But Eventually Figures His Shit Out) | Oral Sex | Consensual Sex | Ovipositors/Eggs | Breeding |

Nearly a sweep later, he was still getting used to wearing it.

Every night after waking, Karkat habitually took an ablution and put on his clothes. For most of his life, those clothes had been the unassuming greys and the standard black that most wigglers wore before Ascension. Afterwords during his career training at the Harbor, he'd worn much of the same, it was only when he'd been shipped off to the flagship had he finally started to dress like an adult. Even after the ridiculous robes were ditched, the garments Kanaya had designed him were edged and complimented with his caste color, not just the one splash of it for his symbol. 

But not long after his encounter with the Grand Highblood, he'd gotten a request. No, not a request, an order, that Karkat take to wearing his blood color, as was only right. Of course it was. Of course. Because Gamzee's stupid ancestor had to be obsessed with his stupid ancestor and his stupid ancestor had to pass on stupid redpop hemochrome. So gone were the little details of lime green at his cuffs, to the sash on his waist. He had immediately been ordered new clothes, edged in bright, imperial crimson. 

Anyone who didn't /know/ would merely see it as something patriotic. Definitely garish, but it was one of the imperial banner colors, after all. But he hadn't quite got used to it splashed over his own damn wardrobe, bright and eye searing, like the shirt he put on today. It was made of soft material, something with a sloping neck in the front, but a high collar - almost dressy when he tucked it into his black trousers and put the black boots that he'd flirted and wheedled Gamzee into buying for him.

Apparently, though, the morning wasn't for being used to anything. When Gamzee rushed to the front of the ablution trap, blocking the doorway, Karkat had thought little of it. He'd kissed his mate, let Gamzee fiddle around trying to put in the studs that had been made for him - flat, circular slabs of ruby that went at the lower lobe of either ear, expensive and eye catching. Those had been the work of Kurloz. But Gamzee didn't normally look so guilty when he put them in, and he certainly didn't usually keep Karkat boxed in.

The mutant squinted.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked. 

"Well, little brother, look, it's like this-" he had begun to say, but Karkat had already bumped his nubbly little horns under Gamzee's long arm, forcing his way beneath to peer out behind him. His narrow eyes widened, then narrowed again. 

"/YOU/." he seethed.

"What kind of greetin is that, after almost two sweeps. Ain't a proper one, that's for damn sure." Eridan rolled his shoulders back, straightening up and perking his eyebrows up just a touch, looking Karkat up and down as he squeezed out from behind the massive form of the subjuggulator who had just gotten done decorating him like a pretty troll-sized doll. Quaint. 

Karkat had gotten a little taller since his adult molt, but it was only a couple of inches really. Eridan, on the other hand, had sprouted into his proper highblooded stature, or at least, he was well on the way, nearly two feet taller than he had been before his last molt. He'd known it was just a matter of time, he was a late bloomer. He'd come fully draped in his imperial uniform, and all the extra accoutrements that his nobility afforded him. In addition to the rings he'd always worn, he had a couple of gold and purple jeweled studs in his ears too, connected with fine gold chain, a couple of thick ropes of gold braid looping down from his epaulet, and a couple of gold notches on his ranking besides. He was still just an officer, of course, but a promising one. Headed important places, though no one had said that to his face, that just wasn't the way things were done on warships.

"Get /out/, you massive shitheel." Karkat hissed from behind Gamzee, just being barely held back by the subjuggulator. He looked up into his lover's painted features. "You can make him leave. /Make him leave/." 

Gamzee gave a sigh. "Might I could, little brother. But he's with Her Imperious Condescension's first command, so I don't reckon that'll go just how you expect."

Karkat opened his mouth to argue back, but soon enough remembered that Gamzee wasn't the one he was angry at. No, that was reserved for the jackass in glittering gold who was standing there, in /his/ bedroom, on /his/ ship, demanding /his/ attention. He wrested himself from Gamzee's grip, walking forward, glowering the whole way. "/YOU/. How /dare/ you not even message me once since I fucking /ascended/, and just show up here, demanding to see me. Since I have no fucking doubt that that was your entire reason for doing any actual work, and not just loafing around on your glutes all day, scrolling through pailers-wanted ads?"

"And how many times did you bother messagin /me/ since you ascended? Don't pull any of your tricky fuckin guilt trip mind games with me. Not after I went to so much work gettin my glutes here to see you. You should be ecstatic to finally be seein me in my full unadulterated glory. I mean first off those webcams ain't all that flatterin, and second we were just wigglers. So stop actin like such a wiggler, ditch the clown, and come over here. You can throw me out with your own two hands if that's really what you've gotta mind to do." That clearly wasn't really an option, considering the physical contrast between the two of them. Gamzee could probably pick him up by the collar and carry him out one-handed, but he had every right to be here, really, and even Karkat's half assed protests wouldn't change that.

"Ditch the- THAT'S MY MATE, YOU INCREDIBLE JACKASS. AND THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD'S GET. WHICH MAKES HIM ABOUT TWENTY THOUSAND TIMES MORE WORTHWHILE ON PRINCIPLE ALONE THAN YOUR DIME A DOZEN GILL BREATHING ASS." he shouted. It was a strange contrast - Karkat was often expressive, but Gamzee had never seen /anyone/ shout with their whole body like his little lover was doing now. He wasn't bearing just then, so Gamzee had no eggs to remind him needed minding, and no reason to interject. And Karkat knew this, which was exactly why he was letting himself lose his shit. "Honestly, I bet you cracked your fucking molt shell just from your arrogance alone. Like the idea that coming on to a religious war ship clad in pants so tight that I'm sincerely doubting whether you have fucking circulation anymore was the best idea you ever had. Honestly, maybe that's it! Maybe you're so pan addled that you've completely forgotten how to be a half decent friend instead of some entitled, gold-encrusted piece of hoofbeast shit! Some major scientific discovery there, remind me to report it to the medical journals-"

Eridan's earfins pinned back, and he squinted into the onslaught, as if it were a particularly strong, salty headwind that had to be leaned into for balance. "Wow, Kar, calm down your fuckin offense glands, I'm not tryin to start a glubbin war here, I was just suggestin you might want to say hello half decent like to an old /friend/ who came half across the damn galaxy to see you. What do you want me to say, I'm sorry for not trollin you? I've been up to my gills in shit at the officer's academy, and then as soon as I caught a break from that they shipped me straight out."

"Oh, yes, that completely explains why you totally forgot that on that absolutely fucking batshit server you idiots use, lower bloods have to be invited to speak before they can pester anyone! It all makes sense now. What a beacon of illumination you are in this dark world I inhabit, Eridan." Karkat said, maybe calming down a little, but still crossing his arms. Which was kind of adorable, Gamzee thought, but didn't say.

"Well I never got an invitation request, neither. Besides they…well, they monitor your chump roll when you're in officer trainin. I didn't have a good enough excuse to be talkin to some midblood I knew from back on planet. I was tryin to be taken seriously, you've got no idea what a fuckin shark tank it is out there. But I'm here now, all right, can you please get your panties out of a knot over it? Come on Kar, you don't gotta be so cold to me. I gotta say, you look fantastic. Your adult molt's agreein with you."

"You're damn straight it is. What a fucking shame that you won't be getting anywhere near it with your serious lifestyle. I hope all your gravitas is well and fucking worth it, you prick." he replied. Eridan's adult molt was agreeing with him, too, but Karkat had kind of always knew that it would; even through grainy video chats, his bone structure had always been impressive, and they'd had more than enough suggestive conversations to leave Karkat's newly struck heat cycles with plenty of material to lose his shit over. But that didn't change now. Not one bit, he told himself.

He heaved a slow, heavy sigh, and turned to look at Gamzee instead. "Any chance of us gettin some privacy? It looks like we've got more to work out than I originally thought. Kar, please, if you want me to beg you for forgiveness, at least do the decent thing and let me do it while your /mate/ ain't watchin."

Karkat glared at him for a few moments longer. He wasn't entirely convinced that was a good idea - he might actually strangle Eridan if left alone, though admittedly at least he didn't have that stupid scarf to do it with any more. Finally, he turned to Gamzee, not saying anything, but sharing a look. Gamzee's eyebrows rose. Karkat frowned. Gamzee wriggled his eyebrows. Karkat snapped at him, annoyed, but turning back with the ghost of a grin on his face as Gamzee slid from the room, silent as any laughsassin could have been. 

"Alright, you better make this good." he told Eridan as Gamzee closed the door behind himself.

"So you want me on my knees, or what?" He murmured, low, raising his eyebrows half suggestively and then sighing, more seriously, taking the couple of steps over to Karkat, taking his hand, and sinking down onto one knee, sincere as all hell, but also being careful not to scuff his boots, which had been laboriously polished to a high military shine. "I'm sorry I didn't troll you, I am. I thought about you all the time out there, though. Wonderin if you were all right. I was flippin ecstatic to get news you were here, when I found out our ships were gonna meet I busted my ass getting on the convoy. Will you forgive me?"

 

As much as he hated to admit it, having somebody kneeling before him did actually appease him a little bit. It was nice - and it certainly felt right, as he'd come to think of power in more relative terms. Besides, Eridan was doing the /face/, and Karkat had a hard time resisting that, stupid as it was. "Oh, fucking /fine/. I forgive you. /Maybe/."

"Finally," he puffed out a breath. "Glad I didn't have to bleed myself before your honor was appeased." He grinned, a little, sliding back up onto his feet, but keeping ahold of Karkat's hand in his, casually, except the way that the pads of his fingers and thumb were pressed into the palm and back of Karkat's hand with just a little bit of intentional pressure, as if he were thinking of pulling the limeblood closer to him. "Did you miss me? Were you thinkin about me too?"

"Of course I thought about you." Karkat said, rolling his eyes, too overtaken with Eridan's ego to really notice how he was looking at him just then, how he was holding Karkat's hand. "It's pretty difficult to go from having someone you talk to every night to having them gone, you know. And all I got was your dramatic ass warning you would save me before we ascended. You made me think they were going to /cull/ me, fuck's sake."

"Well from the looks of it you didn't need much savin anyway. Landed your cute little glutes on a pretty prestigious ship. I mean prestigious as far as landdwellers go anyway. I mean highborn ain't allowed to treat their breeders rough or anythin, but I read between the lines on that back on Alternia, seemed to me they just lock em up in some fancy-cushioned room and leave em to rot when they're not usin them. But you look like you're bein taken care of pretty well. You and Gamzee, huh? How far along are you?"

He was a little startled at that, taking offense to it. After all, Karkat knew the changes that a troll's body went through all too well before he had even stepped foot on the ship. He assumed it was obvious whether or not he was bearing, even though he knew trolls had evolved so that even the largest of eggs didn't really do much to swell the abdomen, as it did in so many other unfortunate creatures. "Um, so fucking done that they're on a different planet?? That they've hatched?? That I have /pictures/ of /wrigglers/ now??" he replied, face slightly flushed with incredulity. "I mean, not to say I'm not still testing the limits of exactly how fast I can churn those things out, I don't know if you know, but what they say about subjuggulators is absolutely true, the clubs really /are/ bigger-"

Eridan stared, more than a little stunned. "You're not bearin' for Gamzee right now? Are you tryin to tell me that you're perigees past bearin his eggs, and you're still stayin with him? That's un-fuckin-heard of. What do they have you doin on this ship anyway? Don't tell me you somehow sweet talked the Grand Fuckin Highblood into lettin you quadrant with his heir? I mean I know you're pretty good at sweet talkin, or when that don't work bitchin loud enough that you get your way but somehow I just ain't picturin it workin on the likes a him."

Karkat's face fell a little, and he frowned, features darkening some. The relationship - and it was a relationship, though surely not romantic so much as twisted symbiosis - was something complicated, and he didn't like to think on it as much as he liked to carry on about Gamzee. "I bore his eggs too." he said, flatly. "He let me stay on the ship as a present for bearing, and he let me officially mate for Gamzee if I bore one of his broods. So I did, and I am. I'm Gamzee Makara's fucking /mate/. And that's more than a matesprit is ever going to be to him."

If he was staring before, he was nearly gawking now, barely able to believe it. "His /mate/ as in, forever? As in, you got yourself not only assigned to this ship, but assigned to one damn troll? There's not a single fuckin instance of that in all a recorded history, as far as I know. It ain't /done/." He frowned a little. How the fuck was he supposed to claim Karkat for his, to keep him on his ship, when he was permanently assigned to some fucking juggalo? This was not how he envisioned this meeting happening at all, he was supposed to find Karkat tired and dejected, desperate for intellectual company, for affection, not breaking rules and lording it over a whole damn ship of indigoes. He was supposed to have been the impressive, accomplished one. Not his fucking nubby horned limeblooded wigglerhood crush.

"Well it is fucking done when Karkat Vantas is on the job. Karkat Vantas is a troll who gets what he wants, by any means necessary. And I determined what I fucking wanted out of this life was to climb onto a great big bulge all the time and be adored with every waking breath by the troll whose eggs I'm bearing. One that knew what the hell to do with that freak tongue of his was just a nice bonus." he said, smugly, enjoying the deflated, then sort of pissed look on Eridan's face, though not understanding it fully.

"You shouldn't get your damned hopes up." He said, and his tone was low and a little dangerous, a manner of speaking quietly to be heard that he'd picked up on his own ship, the subtleties of the high ranking military and court intrigue starting to sink into his pan. "They do fuckin terrible shit to trolls that step outta line in the grand scheme a things. Hate to see you fall too hard from this nice cushy perch you got goin on, where you can lounge around on your back eatin candied beetles and spreadin your legs for that big sweet idiot you got yourself mated to, without even havin to do your job. That's gonna catch up to you one way or another Kar, everythin easy always got a price in this world."

"Easy." Karkat repeated the word, staring at Eridan. He had been listening either way, but he was well versed in the level of bullshit that Eridan was pulling. No, Karkat had received "subterfuge 101 or: how not to get embroiled in needless drama while bearing because somebody gets jealous". He puffed himself up, hissing at Eridan again, jabbing his finger into his chest. "And what part of my fucking job do you think is /easy/? What part of this do you think is /easy/? You think I /want/ to be on a ship full of murderous chucklefucks who think that beating the shit out of each other is what passes for fun and that there are two men in the stars who fucking watch over the rest of us like creepy ex-palemates who need fucking restraining orders? Do you think it's /fun/ to get your nook physically /shredded inside itself/ because the Grand Highblood decides the price of your relative sanity is worth bearing his burden? Or maybe it was the part where I was in so much physical pain that he finally found a way to crack into my mind which, surprise, he wouldn't have found any other way! No, no, of course it was the part where literally every step I take I have to be worried that somebody is going to try to assassinate me, or my mate, or my fucking wrigglers who, by the way, were taken from my goddamn arms and shipped off to another PLANET, in both cases. Take your pick. Take your /fucking/ pick, because you're shithive maggots if you think that any of this is /easy/. You don't even know what it's like to lose your life to fucking /bearing/, or what it's like to try to /survive/ here, so back the fuck /off/."

"It hasn't been easy for me either, Kar. There's all this /pressure/ on me all the damn /time/, tryin to live up to some fuckin unattainable image they got of what a young noble should be, how he should think and fuckin comport. They'd probably cut off my damn bulge if they knew what I've been thinkin about, how I feel about you. How much trouble I went through to get here, what I did to set this up. I was gonna ask for you, Kar, I was gonna bring you back with me. I got permission and everythin, even though I'm way too young to have my own breeder. I worked hard for that, why else do you think I didn't message you? I had to be a model fuckin highblood, or else I never would a got special privileges like this. And what did I get for all that? When I finally find my way back to you you're matin up with some fuckin juggalo? You got yourself permanently on his ship? After all those sweeps talkin and flirtin and makin plans, I can't believe you just fuckin threw me in the waste receptacle like a piece a worthless refuse. You were /important/ to me, Kar. Maybe I was just foolin myself, thinkin you'd wait for me. No you had to just throw yourself at the first fuckin highblood with a nice bulge and latch on, didn't you?" 

He'd been advancing on Karkat during this little speech, forcing him to back up, and by the end, he pushed his palm into Karkat's chest, and shoved him back against the wall, pinning him there. His pusher was beating hard, and he had a cold sinking feeling all over. How could his plans have gone so wrong? And why did he still want nothing more than to kiss Karkat until the little limeblood was out of breath and wrapped around Eridan like a port in the storm? It wasn't fair, Karkat mated to someone else wasn't fair, or right, and he was pissed off about it, wanted to physically shake some sense into Karkat, if the kissing didn't work.

Karkat had mostly been trying to process what the hell he was saying - he had spent too much time around greater forces than Eridan /fucking/ Ampora to be frightened of him now. And besides, he knew Gamzee, knew that he wouldn't have gone far. All it would take was a single scream and Eridan's head would be bashed open so quick that he wouldn't even feel it. But right now he squared off his delicate shoulders, looked Eridan in the eye. He bared his teeth. Karkat Vantas was /not/ here, had /not/ worked so hard to be pushed around by some bratty royal right now.

"Get a fucking /grip/ on your pan's handle, you wretched excuse for a sea roach. We were never quadranted before we ascended and - surprise! I fucking suck at quadrants! I don't want them!! And I'm getting by just fine without you, so if you think you can come in here and lay /claim/ to something that was /never/ YOURS, you've got another thing coming." Karkat hissed.

"An who the fuck said anythin about quadrants?" This was a lie and he knew it with a sinking feeling, he'd been harboring red feelings for Karkat since he was a wiggler, but he was so /angry/ and /hurt/ and once he opened his mouth he couldn't seem to stop himself. "You think I could have a fuckin' limeblood for a quadrant? Trolls like me /do/ lay claim trolls to like you. You think this little thing you got on this ship is written in stone cause the Highblood says it is? He's a fuckin indigo and he answers to the Empress like everyone fuckin else. You're makin a mistake, Vantas, whatever he's givin you I can do better. You're gettin by fine now, but how long's that little dream gonna last? You're gonna need protectin, and that fuckin clown ain't up for the job. Not like I am. Sure indigo's fine enough, but he's a landdweller, an that's all he'll ever be in the grand scheme a things. I can see that now, from where I've been standin. The best thing you could do for yourself is get yourself a position breedin for someone as high up on the spectrum as you can. Someone like me."

Karkat outright laughed in Eridan's face. "Kurloz - which is the Grand Highblood's fucking grub name, you know, we're on those kinds of fucking /terms/ - has been Her moirail for longer than you and I even contemplated being /bred/, you selfish prick, so clearly you aren't important enough to know jack /shit/." He was half growling now, jabbing his finger into Eridan's chest. " And for another thing, if I'm so beneath you, then get the fuck out of my sight and save us /both/ the trouble, because I have no interest in some douchecanoe who can't even see his /friend/ past the glorifying fucking stain of his own /caste/."

"Grow up an live in the fuckin real world, Kar. You /are/ my friend, an you're a limeblood, an those two things ain't mutually exclusive, but it is a fuckin juggalo miracle that they ain't in my particular situation. You don't got the slightest clue how hard it is for me back there. How serious adult seadwellers take the goddamn hemospectrum. An I did know they were moirails, by the way, but that don't have any bearin on politics or law. How do you think they stay pale, if they didn't have that shit sorted out?" 

He took a slow breath than sighed. "Kar, I didn't come here to fight." He caught his face between his hands, tilted it up towards his own, gripping it so Karkat couldn't just rip away from him. "Why are you makin this so difficult?" He felt that ache again, Karkat was just so pretty like that, flustered and glaring, wound up. He wanted to kiss him, and he fucking would, he determined.

Karkat growled in the back of his throat and snapped his teeth, but he didn't necessarily knock Eridan's hands away. They had been so close on Alternia, even though they'd never met, the contact seemed familiar, an old thing, a comfort that was visualized even if never shared before now. "/Don't/ fucking turn this around on me, like I'm the one with the unreasonable attitude. I'm not the one standing there, spewing filth from his fucking mouth like it were your waste chute. I'm the one trying to figure out why my supposed /friend/ is so determined to treat me like /cargo/."

"All right then if talkin's the problem, let's stop talkin." He murmured, and stroked his thumbs across Karkat's soft cheeks. He hesitated a moment, looking down at Karkat, as if trying to determine whether he was going to try to bite him, then threw caution to the wind and leaned down, closing the space between them, pressing his mouth over his. He imagined it would change his mind, like in those stupid movies Karkat liked so much, imagined that he would melt into his arms and realize how obvious it had been that they were meant to be together.

His eyes widened for a moment. It had become natural to melt into kisses - violent ones, passionate ones, soft ones, mocking ones. But those had belonged to the Grand Highblood and Gamzee, and he felt a surge of emotion at the sheer violation of it all, and most of all that it was /Eridan/ doing it. Eridan, who was supposed to be his friend, he thought, eyes watering as he wrenched back his hand and slapped the violetblood across the face as hard as he was possibly able. It made Eridan bite down on his lip, though whether that was reflex or retribution, Karkat couldn't say. It caught his lip either way, but he didn't think - hadn't thought, was used to how little his hemochrome mattered to anybody on the ship so long as he was bearing the eggs of the inarguable masters of it. "/What/." he spat at Eridan, venomously, when the other stared at him, gawping.

Eridan's bite had been reflexive, and when the slap broke the kiss up, he'd drawn away and instinctually raised his own ring-laden hand, fully intending to strike Karkat so hard he bruised, offense bristling in him that a lower caste would dare raise a hand to him. Talking was one thing, insults, refusals, that was just Karkat's thick headedness. But they were past the days when a little thing like that wouldn't matter. It did. Friend or not, they both had to know their place. But before his hand even started to come down, he caught sight of the split in Karkat's lip, the little streak of blood running down from it. For a moment, he couldn't even comprehend what he was seeing, and his hand slowly lowered, then dropped back to his side, his eyes widening. Then he comprehended, and he took a single staggering step back. 

"Kar…" he started off, his voice low. "What the /fuck/ is that."

It actually took him a moment to realize that what Eridan was talking about was his blood, and he only realized that after tonguing at it for a moment, feeling the sore split and the salty tang on his lip. His smile became ferocious. It was something he'd been paranoid all of his life, but he'd come to see - it mattered fuck /all/ what your damage was, as long as others valued it. And the Grand Highblood, second highest power in the empire, whatever Eridan and his cohort of fantastically delusional royals seemed to think, valued it quite a lot. "Are rare hemochrome," he said, lifting his chin. "Which I am the sole fucking holder of."

"You're a goddamn /mutant/? Kar, didn't you think that was something, I don't know, you might /tell/ your fuckin wigglerhood /friend/? They could have culled you before you even ascended! I don't know why the hell they didn't! You were just gonna let me wait and wonder why if that happened? What the hell is wrong with you? An furthermore, where the fuck do you get off thinkin it's somethin to parade around like some fucked up badge of honor? What have these juggalos been puttin into your head? That's messed up, Kar."

"I'm a limeblood. I'm genetically a fucking /limeblood/, and my hemochrome doesn't affect my broods in any way. They tested that." Okay, that was a lie. A big lie. But he didn't need Eridan getting it into that pretty, utterly vacant head of his that it was something that needed to be reported. "And you know what? I heal faster. I have shorter terms with eggs. It's a goddamn /asset/ to the empire, and you know as well as I do that it's practicality over prejudice. Though, some fucking friend you are. Now I know why I never told you - you never really were my friend. You're just another puffed up, pompous brat that the empire has to appease because you've got a set of gills, and suddenly you think you're hot shit."

"I /am/ your fuckin friend. You think it matters to me? I'm just /worried/ about you, fuck. I'm just tryin to tell you how it is out there. I'm just tryin to protect you, Kar." His voice lowered again, a little bit miserably, and he reached for his face again, his grip much gentler this time, to let him pull away if he really wanted to. "…I wanted to be the one to save you." He admitted quietly, feeling like a pathetic excuse for a highblood, much less a highblooded wigglerhood friend to the hottest fucking limeblood in the galaxy. Literally, apparently, on top of everything else. And now what? He was mated to someone else. He was going back to his own ship sooner or later, and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even talk to Karkat on trollian without drawing heat, not if they hadn't mated.

"But I'm not out /there/. I'm here. And if I weren't here, I'd be back on the Harbour, waiting to be called back or helping raise little wrigglers. I know how to function here and there. I don't need a hero. I need my fucking /friend/." Karkat said, and his eyes had started to water. He scrubbed at them, hating his reflex towards it, hating how weak it made him look, but unable to stop it.

"Kar…" he started, and then wisely decided to just shut the fuck up. Karkat was right, as frustrating and heartbreaking as it was. And, he realized, he could either come to terms with that, or he might as well just escort himself the fuck out. There was some small chance he could force Gamzee to give up Karkat, but he knew deep down that he couldn't get the same deal for him. On his ship he'd be little more than glorified communal property. Karkat had saved himself. He grit his teeth, and then let out a slow breath, reigning himself in, swallowing down the protests and excuses. Instead, he just let go of Karkat's face, and wrapped his arms around his torso instead, picking him up and squeezing him into a hug. "I'm sorry." He murmured against him, feeling his own eyes sting a little. He wasn't used to apologizing for anything, and the words felt thick and clumsy on his tongue, but he managed anyway, reminding himself it was worth it if the little limeblood in his arms let him keep holding him like that. He would apologize a thousand times if it meant getting to be pressed close to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the incredible heat of his body pressed so close against his own. Not just that, but he'd missed having a friend. Someone he could just be honest with, talk to like an equal instead of worrying about all that other bullshit he had to navigate on a daily basis. He'd almost forgotten how.

Karkat wavered a few seconds before he wrapped his arms around Eridan's neck. It had been so thin when they were younger, and now it just fucking /wasn't/ - he could feel the strength in his shoulders, the musculature of his arms, holding Karkat up as though he were little more than a doll. Not that he was unused to it, by now. After letting his occulars leak for a few more seconds, he sniffed, and rubbed his face against the collar of Eridan's uniform, where it met his neck, inhaling his scent. Good. Safe, he thought, and relaxed a little. "Apology accepted, you sharkfucker."

Eridan exhaled again, relief and warmth surging through him, sort of unexpectedly. He'd been so looking forward to seeing Karkat, and he'd been so used to having everything go his way unquestioningly, that the two had collided into a hot mess. "Thanks, nubs." He muttered back, with a little grin, shifting his arms so his hands linked together under Karkat's glutes, holding him up and against him without having to crack his ribs to do it. He was still so soft, even in his adult molt, soft and curvy and short, it was fucking maddening.

"Fuck you." Karkat said, voice softer than normal, finding himself a little exhausted by their argument. But at the same time, so glad to actually have Eridan here, to be curled up in his arms. He could feel the cool pulse in his throat, and he blamed that, and the shock of the situation, for blabbering like a complete fool. "I fucking missed you like the third chamber of my pusher. I kept thinking about meeting you, and bearing your awful little grubs. But it just didn't work out like that."

"It ain't too late," he murmured, rubbing his cheek against Karkat's soft curls, against the smooth curve of one of those cute nubby little horns. "If you asked I bet your mate would let you. I saw the two of you, you've got him wrapped all around your little finger. It's cute in a nauseatin sort of way." He grinned a little, but cut Karkat off before he could attempt to rebuke this concrete fact. "Besides," he continued on, more soberly. "It'd give me a good reason to stay behind, even for a little while. And it would give me a good excuse to keep in contact with you, after, even come back to visit. I mean, in the eyes a my commanding officers. Wouldn't need an excuse, otherwise."

It was a difficult kind of thing to navigate in his own mind; on the one hand, this felt suspiciously like an attempt to get into his pants and push him into a quadrant. But on the other hand, Eridan was right; if he insisted on caring about what those idiots in his command thought, then Karkat wouldn't hear from him in a very, very long time. He chewed his lip and wriggled in Eridan's arms, signifying he should be let down. "...Give me a minute." he said, walking distractedly towards the antechamber, and then the outer door of Gamzee's room.

"All right," Eridan agreed, amiable enough, and doubly so now that there was this glimmer of hope that things weren't as irretrievably fucked as they'd seemed a couple of minutes ago. He set Karkat back down at his feet, and watched him go sort of anxiously, as if he were walking out and he'd never see him again, unrealistically stupid as that was.

Karkat was gone a few minutes, relieved to find that he had been right. Gamzee had retreated no farther than Karkat's own quarters, right next door. It was a much smaller room, one that Gamzee had been using as a painting room, but it had since been decorated with the necessities, in order to keep Karkat close and not assign him a room in the belly of the ship. He understood the situation - of course he did, Gamzee always understood with a kindness that was more than he ever deserved. 

When Karkat returned to Eridan, it was with a smug little smirk, unexpectedly pleased at this turn of events, despite the utter wreck Eridan had nearly made of it, barging into his block like that. "Gamzee said it was fine, just for this term. I assume Kurloz will figure out some way to frame it as a diplomatic favor. You can come back here when you're ready for breeding, you'll need to be off of your blocking pills for at least a perigee." 

But Eridan was off of his blocking pills already, and he suddenly felt a flush of embarrassment suddenly realizing what the situation was. He knew that it could only look like one of two unfortunate scenarios; that he'd been so colossally stupid as to assume that even though Karkat was currently breeding for Gamzee, or recovering from it, that he still somehow had a chance. Or maybe that he was some kind of pervert that purposefully didn't take the pills so he could play with his ovipositor, or do some sort of kinky shit with it, which also wasn't really a very pleasant image to be painting for Karkat at this very moment. 

But the truth of why he was off of his blockers was far more disgraceful than either of those things, and even if Karkat didn't think so as a limeblood, if the word somehow got out, it'd mean the end of his damn career, and maybe even a culling. He searched sort of wildly for a believable lie, face and fins flushed a bright violet as he chewed on his lip. But he didn't want to wait, either, not with Karkat here, and ready. What if Gamzee changed his mind? What if Cronus denied him permission, after he went back to give his formal report?

He took the chance. "I ain't…on my blockers right now, Kar." He tried his best to sound flippantly casual about it, like that was perfectly normal thing, that he had a perfectly valid excuse for.

"Really? Well then, I guess we don't have to wait a perigee after all, you lucky fucker." Karkat seemed entirely unfazed by the news, to Eridan's immense relief. Maybe he thought it was rote for seadwellers, or maybe he just assumed Eridan had some other mundane reason for it, but whatever the case, he was eternally grateful. Maybe those stupid juggalo gods were looking out for him.

"It's... A little weird to try to do it in here." Karkat told Eridan, flushing. "Even you could understand that." 

"Sure," Eridan agreed, though truthfully he was so giddy with pleasure that he would have agreed to just about anything just then. Still, he got it, it was a matter of not smearing things all together, friends and lovers, mates and quadrants, it was messy enough without breeding him in the same bed that he pailed Gamzee on. And frankly he didn't even want the vaguest hint of that imagery to haunt him whilst he was innocently trying to romance Karkat. 

Karkat took Eridan's hand and tugged him into the adjacent room, Karkat's own private chambers. Gamzee, who had been kicked back staring off into space, idly contemplating and moongazing, stirred himself up to his feet. He looked over the two of them, imposing and keen when his oculars swept over the young seadweller, gaze lingering enough to make him sweat a little, before he finally shifted, kissing Karkat's forehead and stepping on out of the room.

Eridan exhaled with a nervous little laugh, and turned to look at Karkat, only to flush and scowl at the amusement written all over his face regarding Eridan's reaction to Gamzee. He reached around and pinched Karkat's glutes, but a moment later, before Karkat could retaliate, he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, a surge of affection and desire coming over him, now that they were alone again, intimately.

"You know, I can hardly believe it," he murmured to him, a little shy suddenly, rubbing his cheek gently against the soft nub of one of his little horns. "You got any idea how long I've been dreamin about this? Feels a little like I'm still dreamin.."

Karkat flushed a little more, and hated himself for it. But... It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, being wanted. Much less being wanted the same way he'd wanted Eridan, the same way he'd hoped for when he'd been six and stupid and could afford fantasies about somehow being only beholden to his love for Eridan, and vice versa. He didn't reply just yet, leading him over to his own room. It was much, much smaller, but... Comfortable. The bed was sized for an actual troll and not a behemoth, and he had a small recuperacoon, as well as a desk and husktop to busy himself with and watch movies on. He took a breath, squeezing the hand of Eridan's he was still holding. "...Didn't know you really felt that way."

"Course I do. Who wouldn't feel that way about you, who knows you like I know you? An you put up with me at six, makes you not only beautiful, but a goddamn saint besides." He stroked his fingers against the back of Karkat's neck, glancing around the room briefly but then fixing his gaze back down at the shorter troll, like he couldn't get enough of just looking at him.

Karkat loved to be looked at that way; like he was precious, like he was fucking /wanted/. He got a lot of it from Gamzee, and admittedly even the occasional time from Kurloz or Sollux, but no matter how much he got, he was greedy for more. Besides, Eridan wasn't exactly hard to look at. He'd filled out from the stick-thin, twig monster way that had suited him as a wriggler, but had retained that long, lovely face, with sharp bone structure and beautiful, expressive eyes. He sort of lost himself to staring into them for a second, sparkling almost, with little threads of violet throughout. His own colour hadn't come in at all. He thought of how unusual it was, but shook it off. A puzzle for another damn day. "I was canonized as the patron saint of amazing glutes upon my hatching. Didn't you get the memo?"

"I'm a cynic Kar, I'm going to need to see it for myself before I believe it." He raised his eyebrows a little and grinned, his earfins perking up some, too, pleased and a little bit flushed, just at the tips. He placed his fingers beneath Karkat's chin and tipped it up, leaning down to kiss him again, slow, savoring the taste of him, the give of his soft lips under his. His hands wandered down, smoothing over his shoulders, down his arms, closing around his waist, his thumbs rubbing into his hips.

"Hmmm..." he murmured after kissing Eridan, contemplative. He looked at him with half lidded eyes, thick lashes casting shadows in his room, more well lit than Gamzee's, though it was still dim. The only light in it currently was coming from the rosy hue of his screen saver and keyboard, something that he always felt was flattering, softening every angle, pale but flushed, romantic as the waxing of the pink moon. He stepped back, removing his boots before sliding his hands around to the bow he had tied from the ties of his trousers. "I suppose I'll do this nonbeliever the honor of seeing my altar. Don't blame me when you weep like a grub for joy, though," he snarked, sliding his pants away. Finally, he removed his sweater and let it slide to the floor, standing there in the rose coloured glow, knowing how soft and alluring he looked - he saw it in his damn mirror every time he was getting dressed.

"Oh I've got much better plans than weepin. I fully intend to get on my knees and worship, an it's all right with your grace." He licked his lips, eyes narrowing in appreciation, before he made good on his word a moment later, sinking to his knees and sliding his hands up the soft curves of Karkat's thick thighs, back up to his hips, then curved around to his glutes, squeezing his hands into them, pulling Karkat closer a step. He leaned forward and nuzzled his face right up against his sheath, inhaling the scent of his sex, turning to press a little kiss right on top of it, then one a little lower, right at the top of his nook slit. "What do you say, Kar, you think my mouth's a suitable offerin?"

"That depends on if you use it for something more useful than talking." he replied, sliding his fingers through Eridan's curls. They weren't coarse with salt like he had imagined in his youth. But then, Eridan had likely not seen the sea for a long time yet, and so his hair was soft, the curls somewhat manageable, tamed with pomade and the force of vanity that took placing them precisely. He made a soft noise as he felt Eridan's tongue lap at just the front of his slit, cool and so fucking /good/. "Mm, that's a good start."

He hummed against that hot, sensitive flesh, pleased as Karkat's hands stroked through his curls. He took his time, though it was hard to restrain himself, the temptation to rush in was strong. His tongue curled out and lapped at his nook with just the tip, teasing and stroking just the top edge, then flattening out as he moved down, lips sealing over the wet little gash and sucking at him, tightening his hands around his glutes to rock his hips up against his mouth, feeling his lips and teeth press up against Karkat's pelvic bone under all that deliciously soft flesh. He rubbed his lips and nose and chin into him, nuzzling, and sucked at him more, just the outside of his nook still, not dipping his tongue into the burning hot center of it, yet, making himself wait.

It was infuriating, but... But also nice, he realized, also exactly what Eridan was like, himself. Gamzee was adoring and worshipful, but always straightforward, with that tongue he'd learned to use as a second bulge. But this was softer, and just as good, Eridan's cool mouth and tongue still tantalizing, the slowness of it making him more turned on, sensitive, slowly ratcheting up the intensity of it without Eridan having to do a damn thing extra until he was ready. Karkat felt the lips of his nook fill with blood, swollen as wetness creeped out between them, pale pink slurry dripping as he felt his nook start to clench inside, needy.

He finally let the tip of his tongue run along the slit of Karkat's nook, up and down, dipping in just a little deeper each time, delving past the folds and rubbing into the slick texture of the inside walls of his nook, feeling it clench around him. His fingers were still pressed into his glutes, kneading and rocking him against his mouth as he sucked and licked at him, savoring it like a rare delicacy. Which, it really fucking was.

Eridan didn't have to do too much guiding - it really took very little incentive for Karkat to have his hips rocking up against that mouth, that wonderful tongue delving into him. He had become familiar that his nook was ten times better pleasured than his bulge could ever be, and he felt all the little folds that caught in the prod and drag of Eridan's tongue, all the nerve endings that lit up, his seedflap shuddering, expecting slurry any moment. It was only when Eridan pulled back for a breath that Karkat realized he'd put his hands around the other troll's horns to rock into him, and he let go with a little bashfulness. "Uh. Yes. So, that was a pretty good offering, I guess." he said, clearing his throat.

By the time he pulled back, it was partly to give his tongue a little bit of a break before he strained it, and partly to look up at Karkat, wanting to see the effect he'd had, grinning at his words, at the flush high on his cheeks, and the way his nook was all swollen and so flushed it was nearly glowing from all the attention from Eridan's mouth. But also, he'd pulled back because his own bulge was about to drive him batshit if he didn't get his pants open, it had been fully unsheathed and squirming insistently against the tight fabric of his uniform trousers, so much so that he thought he'd have a fucking bulge blister if it kept that up for much longer. "I got somethin else to offer you, if you're interested," He grinned, and slid up to his feet again, pulling Karkat up against him, letting him feel his bulge thick and squirming between them.

"Hm, I don't know. Does that handle like a friendly eel too? If it does, maybe so..." Karkat said, reaching up and tugging a little on Eridan's hair, pulling him down into a kiss as he slid his hands down his chest, down his waist, to his trousers. They sat on his natural waist, showing off how narrow it was, how absolutely, disgustingly picturesque Eridan had become. Well, all the better reason to get them off, right?

He bit his lip as Karkat's little soft hands moved to the clasps on his trousers, pulling them apart nimbly. As soon as there was a gap in sight, his bulge made a desperate lunge to escape, twisting it's length out, rubbing and coiling against Karkat's hand. It wasn't nearly as brutally large as Gamzee's, but it had a thick base with an elegant taper to the tip, with the very defined nubs and ridges that seadwellers tended to have. "I'd say it was plenty friendly, yeah.." he breathed out, flushed.

Karkat actually laughed, something he never would have done had he been the troll Eridan knew when he was younger, absolutely terrified of the idea of sex, or intimacy of any kind, really. But now his small fingers let Eridan's bulge twine between them before he gave a smooth, measured stroke, sluicing some of the slurry off of it. He looked up into Eridan's eyes, tone velvety. "Divine suggestion - take your uniform off before I make a fucking mess of it."

Eridan had grown up too, he was amazed and grateful both that they'd both somehow managed to be ready for this moment, when it came, so they weren't just awkward and fumbling adolescent-adults. The suggestion was an excellent one, divine or not, and he started stripping off his uniform without having to be told twice. His cape slouched to a heavy pile on on the floor, his shirt unbuttoned and shucked off, his undershirt pulled over his head. He tugged off his high polished boots and let Karkat pull down his pants, stepping out of them and kicking them aside, letting Karkat see him. He was much broader in the shoulders these days, but still lean and trim, a couple of new mean looking scars etched across his torso that he was pretty proud of.

The scars suited him, Karkat thought, though he'd probably been in no more danger than Gamzee was in the arena when he had got them. But still, Karkat obliged, running his fingers along one or two, specifically the one that drug from his bottommost rib to just above his hip on the opposite side of his body. The silvery skin would be gone a molt from now, but that might take long enough for Karkat to have passed on in to memoriam, he thought, with a grim little chill. Still, he didn't pull back when he felt Eridan's bulge curl out, pressing against the heat of his body, slithering against his hip, curling down, searching desperately for his bulge, which was still mostly inside his own sheath, slow to draw out. "I knew you'd piss somebody off bad enough for this." He grinned unevenly, doubling back over the scar.

"Heh, you should've seen the mess I made of that other sorry brinefucker." He murmured, running his fingers through Karkat's curls, looking down between them to watch as his fingers traced against the scars. "They can't help but be pissed off, considerin how damn pretty I am. It ain't fair, being so disproportionately burdened with charm, skill an looks. Hard to make friends, yknow what I mean?" He grinned, teasing. It was hard to make friends, but not because anyone was /jealous/ of him. Even if they were, there were plenty of other reasons higher up on the list.

"Ah, ah, ah, fucker. I'm still the holy figure in this story, got it?" he said, bringing his hand against Eridan's bulge again, squeezing it, leading it down to his nook so that just the tip of it could feel the slick heat there. He grinned again, watching Eridan's gills all flutter up before they snapped back down, at the colour that flooded his face once more. "Anyways, I'm all the friends you need, right?"

"Mmmmn, yeah, that's right.." he breathed out in a rush. "You're all the everythin I need, Kar." A shiver rushed up and down his spine, gills flaring when the tip of his bulge was allowed to wriggle and stroke against the entrance of Karkat's nook. He gripped his hand into Karkat's curls, gentle but firm, tipped his head back and kissed him again, wanting more of that too, wanting more of everything.

Karkat had meant to tell him 'damn straight', but kissing happened to be one of his favourite activities, and he wasn't about to compromise it for the sake of two syllables. So he kissed Eridan back, keeping his bulge securely at bay, just for a little while so that they could kiss, so that Karkat's own bulge had a little time to decide to peep out, deciding that the stimulation was worth its while. When they finally stopped Karkat was breathless, and he brought his stray hand up to stroke Eridan's throat gills absently while he stole some air in.

Eridan groaned as his gills fluttered under Karkat's touch, vulnerable and sensitive. He took a slow breath in and looked down between them again, flushing as he noticed Karkat's bulge peeping out. He reached down, stroking his fingers against the tip of it, rubbing, encouraging it to slide out more.

It was the same bright hue as his blood, that imperial crimson - the color was deeper on the lips of his nook, on his own lips, mixed with the grey of his skin. But here it was unadulterated, pure and bright, and the heat seemed more intense for it. Karkat's bulge wasn't like Eridan's or Gamzee's, what few bumps there were were only that, slight texture on the otherwise elegant taper of it. But it slid out for Eridan's fingers all the same, and Karkat felt his pupils dilate when he finally allowed Eridan's bulge free, feeling it immediately seek out the heat of his own.

"Mmm, If there were any doubt in my thinkpan whether I was havin' a religious experience right now, that's definitely cleared right up," he breathed out, and wrapped his bulge in a tight spiral around Karkat's, sliding and squeezing against it. His own bulge was a little more than half again as long as Karkat's, but only a little thicker at the base. He was privately a little worried that he wasn't measuring up to that huge chucklefuck Karkat was mating with, especially after that comment about clubs. It was hard to be too dejected or anxious though, wrapped around the incredibly hot, slick length of Karkat's bulge.

"No place like the fucking flag ship of the church. Should I mark you down as converted?" he asked, still a little breathy. Gamzee's bulge couldn't do this with him, and it was a singularly different feeling than it was when he and Sollux were fooling around. All those ridges and the cool texture - Karkat's own bulge explored every inch, wrapping around and wriggling against it, massaging it as best he could. His lashes fluttered, and gradually, he wiped off the slurry of one hand on his leg before putting both arms back around Eridan's neck, leading him backwards toward the bed. "Why don't you lay down and we'll figure out a ritual all our own..."

"Not just converted, hatched again. A newly fledged zealot, you might even say." He grinned a little, but his expression slipped back into a more vacant sort of dazzled pleasure as Karkat rubbed up against him again. When he led him, he followed easily, matching him step for step until his legs hit the back of the mattress. He circled his arms around Karkat's waist and spilled back onto the mattress, pulling the hotblooded troll into a soft little heap of limbs on top of him.

Even eating as much as he had been, Karkat's figure hadn't changed much - it took too much damn effort to bear grubs, not to mention all the pailing he was wont to do in between. And during. Okay, the pailing he was doing all the time, he admitted to himself, feeling his own soft thighs squeeze against Eridan's bony hips. His bulge guided Eridan's down, tracing it against his nook, just like he had before with his hand. "Mm, that's good. I like pretty young priests at my altar. Even if their ego could swallow a troll whole."

"Mmn," he grinned, stars still in his eyes as his bulge brushed against the heat of Karkat's nook again. He leaned down to press his mouth up against his neck, licking and sucking at it, wanting to leave a little hot red mark there. His hands moved to Karkat's hips, holding him, rubbing him down against his bulge a little, but waiting to slide any deeper into his nook until he was allowed to, until Karkat was really desperate for it, enjoying this little game where they were taking it so slow, drawing it out into a sweet heated blur.

It was difficult to resent him now, like this, when he looked so absolutely happy at just having Karkat there, at the pressure of their bodies together. He rolled his hips a little, rocking the slit of his own nook against the top of Eridan's, the wriggling mass of their bulges between them. Karkat grinned and kissed him again when Eridan let out a breathless moan, apparently unused to the idea of so much sensation in one action. "You're so converted, you nearly forgot the purpose of all this. Left it behind with your old life, hm?" Karkat murmured, reaching down. He rubbed at Eridan's bone sheath, knowing it would be easy to coax out his ovipositor while his body was already so aroused. The eggs would be smaller, he knew, but there would also be more of them - sea dwellers started out hardly bigger than a fish before they spun their cocoons and hit a massive growth spurt. When it happened naturally, of course. He couldn't say he wasn't looking forward to a break from being torn open.

"HnnnGHh, what the~" Eridan's eyes got a little wider and he stared down at where Karkat's fingers were doing… /something/ that felt both incredibly good, but also /weird/ and sort of inexplicably embarrassing. He'd never seen or really even thought about his ovipositor much in his whole damn life, and though he supposed he logically knew it came into play for breeding, really when he thought about it, it was the pailing that he'd been dwelling on, which was all bulges and nooks and kissing. "Fuckin hell, Kar," he breathed out, eyes closing, and an even brighter blush painting his cheeks, at an almost total loss now that he had an extra sex appendage just rudely poking out there.

"You're fine. It's about to feel a lot better for you, trust me." Karkat said, lifting himself just enough to put the ovipositor in his nook. He sank down atop it gently, letting Eridan feel the singular sensation of it, prodding it gently back into him. It pressed right up against his seedflap, which was good enough, and he grinned, leaning back over, kissing Eridan again. "Now you've just got to relax."

"Yeah, all right," he murmured, exhaling a little shakily, and keeping his eyes closed. His hands squeezed against Karkat's hips, and his bulge coiled and rubbed a little between his thighs, against his glutes, idily, just seeking out more stimulation since he was already so aroused. The sensation of Karkat's nook enveloping his ovipositor was a strange one, he could feel the heat, and could feel a bit of fleshy friction right at the tip, but otherwise it didn't feel anywhere near as nice as his bulge would have felt buried in his nook. 

When it came down to it, he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to be doing with his body to produce eggs, so he just took Karkat's advice on the matter, and tried to relax, taking slow breaths and clearing his mind, waiting. Then, a sudden shockwave of pleasure shuddered through him, as the first couple of eggs slid through the stalk of his ovipositor, pressing up through it, and into Karkat. His eyes snapped open, and he stared up at him kind of incredulously, earfins and face still flushed an embarrassing shade of violet.

Karkat groaned at the sensation - this was what it was supposed to be like, he thought. And really, it was, royals comprised the bulk of the trolls they bred for. He couldn't deny that the smaller size left him room to enjoy the feeling, that his whole body lit up as he felt the eggs press into him. He chirred, low in his throat, trying to calm Eridan somewhat from his shock. Karkat kissed him, and rubbed their jaws together. "It feels good, doesn't it? Just wait for the next ones, when you know what's coming... Mmn, I can't wait to have your whole brood inside of me, Eridan..."

"Ngghh, fuck Kar, yeah… does it feel good for you too?" He murmured, stroking his hands from his hips down his thighs, up to squeeze and massage his glutes, to stroke his lower back. He rubbed his face back against Karkat's, scenting him and inhaling the heavy dose of pheromones in the air between them, chirring back, low. Sure enough, the next eggs were less shocking and more pleasurable, now that he was sure he was doing it right, he could just enjoy it, and he groaned, rocking his hips just a little to bump solidly up against Karkat's flap before the eggs pressed through.

"Ah- mn, yeah... It feels pretty good." Karkat said. It was nothing compared to actually being the one letting go of the eggs, but he couldn't deny that the stimulation was pleasant, enough to make his lashes flutter. Every time the eggs ran through, there were more of them than he'd ever bore, and he knew there would be another shock. At the end of it, he must have had near twenty or thirty inside of them, the pressure just the same as larger eggs, but his nook noticeably less sorry for it. He was covered in Eridan's scent right now, and stupidly pleased with himself as his ovipositor retracted, finally done, leaving the fisher troll a mess of nerves and pleasure beneath him. "Come on... You have a whole nother bulge to get inside me, handsome..."

He couldn't even muster up a verbal retort to that, and just chirred deeply instead, his bulge seeming to take the cue anyway, now that his ovipositor had retracted back inside of him, and Karkat's nook was free. His hands went back to Karkat's hips, shifting him up, as his bulge coiled and rubbed against the heat of him, finally sliding slow and so fucking perfect into Karkat's swollen little nook. He stroked himself inside of the smaller troll, rocking his hips up into him once his bulge had sunk in to the root, coiling and rubbing the texture of his nook walls, stroking the tip of his bulge solicitously against his seedflap, imagining all those eggs inside of him— his eggs, he thought, with a profound sense of pleasure.

Karkat was already sensitized, and his nook fluttered around Eridan's bulge as well as any trained member of a pleasure crew's might. He was used to being uncomfortable, to having to overlook pain for pleasure, but Eridan fit him so well that it was easy to move against him. One moment he was sitting, and the next he was rocking forward, up on his knees before sinking back down, milking his bulge in a way that he knew Eridan hadn't probably experienced before - if he ever had experienced anything like this at all, before. "Mm, you feel so good... Do me a favor and fill me up with that slurry of yours. I'm waiting."

He groaned, and leaned forward, sliding his hands up from his hips to grip around Karkat's grubscars, placing a kiss right in the center of his chest. He was just so damn soft, he couldn't help himself, a moment later his mouth was sealed over one of the little buds on his chest, sucking at it hard, teasing him with his tongue, as his hand slid up to squeeze at the other one, kneading into the soft tissue. Every time Karkat rocked down onto him, he snapped his hips up to meet him, and in no time at all he felt himself start to thicken and knot into him, sealing them together so that all he could do was writhe and stroke inside of him, difficult to thrust in when he was knotted up so thickly.

The pleasure nubs on his chest were sensitive, same as every other limeblood, and it only made the thick knot in his nook all the more worthwhile to squeeze around, his body getting in to the swing of things. But he still took his time, moving against Eridan slowly, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could as he felt his nook start to contract and shutter more and more strongly, knowing what was coming. He pulled Eridan's head up from his chest just soon enough to press their lips together before he started to feel himself coming undone, hot slurry gushing out against Eridan's knot.

He groaned into the kiss, and caught his hands up into Karkat's hair, thumbing over his horns and pressing him deeper into the kiss as he shivered, bulge throbbing at the feeling of Karkat's hot slurry gushing out to fill his nook around the girth of his bulge, and drip out a little to spill over his own thighs and hips, almost searingly hot, but far more erotic than uncomfortable. After that it took only a couple more moments for his own orgasm to overtake him, breaking the kiss with an almost feral sound, eyes unfocused, slit pupils blown wide as he spilled, his own slurry filling Karkat's nook, pressing through his flap to swell him up even more, adding to the volume of the eggs inside of him.

It was almost difficult to feel the claws that drug against the sides of his face, scratching his skin a little with narrow cuts. He was far more caught up in Eridan, in how absolutely mad he seemed driven, primal in mating. The gush of slurry inside of him wasn't bad either, the bulk of it pressing inside of him, cool but definite, filling in the cracks between eggs, giving them definition, life. Karkat rode Eridan's bulge until it started to loosen, kissing at his throat and ear fins all the while, waiting for him to come back to himself.

Eventually, he did, when his knot had loosened and his bulge started to retract back into it's sheath, he took a shuddering breath and started a little, as if just realizing where he was and what he'd just done, folding his arms around Karkat with a sort of fierce protectiveness and squeezing him against his chest. "Kar.." he murmured, affectionately, as he leaned down a little to kiss the top of one of his nubby horns.

"Gills," Karkat replied, affectionate. It was normal for trolls that had just laid to feel protective, and he wasn't all that surprised Eridan was also one of the ones who went a little feral, too. He shivered at the kiss to his horn, kissing Eridan's jaw, then his cheek, resting against him. "Welcome back to the ship. You were free-floating there, for a second."

"Yeah," he murmured, a little self conscious. "Sorry about that. I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked, stroking through Karkat's curls. It had been a singularly strange pailing experience. It was both a lot better than the couple of half-assed quick encounters he'd had, one night stands with his fellow trainees due to sexual frustration running rampant among recruits, and also being something of an instructor's pet with a fine set of glutes had to lead to adult trolls taking him up on his offer, once or twice. But none of those had been as sweet or as hot, or as deeply satisfying as this had been. He'd just pulled on his pants, gathered up his dignity and stalked out after those. Now he felt like he wanted to stay right here on Karkat's narrow mattress forever, holding him in his arms.

"I heal fast and none of it was in my nook, so trust me when I say that this has been the least damaging encounter in my breeding repertoire to date." Karkat kissed him again, happy to be there with him. Because he really had missed Eridan, and he really had wanted to do this for him, right up until he'd met Gamzee. Even then, the urge hadn't entirely died away. He kissed Eridan's nose. "Good thing you're not the one breeding them though. Ten caegars say you'd feral out."

He flushed and sputtered out a little bit of protest, but really he agreed, embarrassing as that was. "Well, didn't happen the other times I've been on a pail, so maybe it's just the holy power a your sweet nook, Kar." He grinned, and stroked his fingers down his back, finally noticing the scratches when Karkat pulled away from the kiss, frowning a little and taking his face gently in one hand, kissing the welts and shallow scratches he'd left.

"Most definitely. Conversion rate is three for three now," he replied, taking Eridan's hand in his own and pressing a kiss to his palm. He didn't want him to have that worried look - nothing had happened, Eridan was just too used to the relatively normal sized, orderly life of noble ships to really understand how much getting torn up was a fact of life for him. "Though I'd say that nobody else has gone feral, either. S' normal for breeding though, some kind of chemical to make even the biggest dipshit a half competent guardian."

He chuckled a little at that, and ruffled Karkat's hair. "Are you callin me a dipshit, you little hotblooded punk?" He didn't have too much extra energy just then for teasing though, and he let out a satisfied, weary sigh and sank back down on the mattress, peering up at Karkat through half-closed lashes. "C'mon I think we've both earned a nap. What do you say."

"No promises I won't earn you another one when we wake up." Karkat said, really used to much more than just this, just pailing somebody without pain, all the intimacy without trouble. He rolled a little, hanging half off of Eridan so that he could breathe, and wriggled up the covers over both of them. They were silk, like his sheets, warm but not cloying, even to a sea dweller. Karkat twined their legs together, curling his head against Eridan's throat.


End file.
